AUNT    DESIRE    COMES    UP    FROM    THE    CAPE. 


UP   FROM    THE    CAPE. 


A  Plea  for  Republican  Simplicity. 


"  If,  with  fancy  unfurled 

You  leave  your  abode, 
You  may  go  round  the  world 
By  the  old  Marlboro  road." 

THOREAU. 


BOSTON: 

ESTES    AND    LAURIAT,    PUBLISHERS, 
301-305  WASHINGTON  STREET. 

l883. 


I23E 

87 


Copyright,  1883, 
BY  ESTES  AND  LAURIAT. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


PREFACE. 

Why? 

I  was  asked  to  attempt  to  write  a  light  book  for 
summer  reading. 

What  ? 

I  believe  much  in  the  New  England  of  the  past: 
in  its  principles,  moral  and  political :  I  am 
acquainted  with  the  farm  house  of  the  coast  towns : 
I  love  it  and  respect  its  intelligent  simplicity.  It 
seems  to  me  like  a  crown  :  it  holds  the  best  life. 

Could  I  picture  a  family  who  maintain  the  early 
traditions  of  the  country,  and  contrast  it  with  one 
influenced  by  the  haste  for  wealth,  the  feverish 
excitements  of  society,  and  the  passion  for  display, 
of  modern  city  life  ? 

There  rose  before  me  good  Uncle  Eben,  and 
quaint  Aunt  Desire,  of  the  Cape. 

Could    I  gather  up  all  the  old  stories  of  their 


IV  PREFA  CE. 

farm  house  on  the  Cape,  and  make  of  them  a  pic 
ture  ? 

Could  I  show  how  the  present  tendencies  of 
city  life  appear  to  the  eyes  of  one  trained  in  the 
republican  school  of  thought  of  half  a  century 
ago  ?  I  could  try. 

You  have  these  pictures  discursively  and  imper 
fectly  drawn  between  intervals  of  work  at  an  edi 
tor's  desk.  They  are  not  exaggerated.  Almost 
every  incident,  however  strange  any  of  them  may 
seem,  is  but  the  reproduction  of  a  fact  from  the 
note  book  of  memory. 

The  lessons  are  simply  the  old  ones  :  That  work 
and  contentment  are  the  sources  of  happiness  and 
that  a  true  life  is  the  best  in  its  social  and  politi 
cal  results. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    I. 
MYSELF 9 

CHAPTER    II. 

IN  WHICH  AUNT  DESIRE  CONSTRUCTS   A  MODEL   FAMILY 
TREE 15 

CHAPTER    III. 

MRS.  DESIRE  ENDICOTX  DECIDES  TO  COME  UP  FROM  THE 
CAPE 27 

CHAPTER    IV. 

EP.EN  FAVORS  DESIRE'S  PLANS  AND  ENTERTAINS  CARRIE 
WITH  ins  YOUTHFUL  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MRS.  GREEN  .    37 

CHAPTER    V. 
THE  OLD  ORCHARD  AND  BURYING-GROUND 51 

CHAPTER   VI. 
AUNT  EXPRESSES  HER  OPINION  OF  SISTER  CARRIE'S  BEAU  .    66 

CHAPTER    VII. 
I  RECEIVE  A  STRANGE  LETTER  FROM  FATHER 71 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
THE  CLAM-BAKE,  AND  STORY-TELLING  UNDER  THE  TREES  .    75 

CHAPTER    IX. 
CARRIE'S  "BOSTON"  STORY  —  "  DOT." 87 

CHAPTER   X. 

REV.    MR.    GLASS    MAKES   A    CLAM-BAKE    FOR   HIS    CITY 
FRIENDS  WITH  RESULTS  DESCRIBED  BY  AUNT  TO  UNCLE  104 

CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  OLD  HOUSE  AND  HOME,  AND  AUNT  DESIRE'S  Two 
WISHES no 

CHAPTER   XII. 
THE  OLD  CAMP-MEETING  AND  THE  NEW 119 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
PICNICS — "CROWS  IN  THE  TREES  AND  HAWKS  IN  THE  AIR,"  125 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
Two  LETTERS 134 

CHAPTER    XV. 
AUNT'S  FAREWELL  EXHORTATION 139 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

UP  FROM  THE   CAPE  —  A  WALK  —  AUNT  CALLS  ON  THE 
DOCTORS 148 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

DESIRE  CALLS  UPON    SUNDRY  EDITORS  AND  INTRODUCES 
TO  THEM  THE  PASTORAL  POEMS  OF  MlSS  FLORA  PlNK     .  156 


CONTENTS.  v 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
NOVEMBER 167 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
EUGENE  RETURNS  FROM  ETRETAT 173 

CHAPTER    XX. 

AUNT  RELATES  TO  UNCLE  HER  LUMINOUS  CONVERSATION 
WITH  MR.  McBRIDE,  THE  AGNOSTIC 185 

CHAPTER    XXI. 

"  UP  AND  DOWN  THE  HARBOR   GOES  THE  HENRY  MORRI- 
SON  "  —  UNCLE'S  NARRATIVE    ....    - 191 

CHAPTER   XXII. 
INTELLIGENCE  FROM  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN 201 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
THE  BLACK  SEA  —  UNCLE  EBEN'S  NARRATIVE  CONTINUED,  206 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 
THE  CLIO  CLUB  —  AUNT'S  NARRATIVE 213 

CHAPTER   XXV. 
ELECTION  DAY - 222 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
THE  LECTURESHIP  —  SNOW 230 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 
DECEMBER 238 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
AUNT  DESIRE  HEARS  FROM  THE  WEST 241 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 

MAY  —  THE  PRESIDENT'S  LEVEE  —  LIFE  LIES  FAIR  BEFORE 
ME 245 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


AUNT  DESIRE  COMES  ur  FROM  THE  CAPE,   ....     Frontis. 

AUNT  DESIRE  AND  JEFF 18 

THE  BARN  THEATRICALS       49 

A  CAPE  CLAM-BAKE 75 

"LOOK  ALOFT" 85 

HOGGARTY  RUNS       106 

"THAT  is  ALL  BUSTED  up"       204 

AT  THE  PRESIDENT'S  RECEPTION        205 


UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 


CHAPTER    I. 

MYSELF. 

I  had  just  graduated  from  the  Latin  School. 

It  was  July,  and  the  house  was  to  be  closed. 
Father  and  mother  were  going  to  the  Hotel 
Wellesley  for  the  rest  of  the  summer.  This  was 
arranged  for  father's  sake.  He  must  be  in 
Boston  daily,  and  at  work.  Money  must  be 
made,  else  how  were  all  the  expenses  of  a  house 
on  the  Back  Bay  to  be  met  ?  It  did  not  seem 
quite  right  —  there  was  always  a  summer  rest 
for  each  member  of  the  family  but  for  father. 

Father  was  forty-two  years  of  age.  He  was 
gray.  There  was  a  care-worn  look  on  his  face 
always.  He  constantly  talked  of  investments 
and  stocks ;  he  was  always  in  a  state  of  feverish 
anxiety.  He  seemed  to  have  no  time  for  recrea 
tion,  little  for  thinking  on  the  subjects  of  life 
outside  of  his  business,  and  as  little  for  the 


10  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

enjoyment  of  nature  and  the  pleasures  that  come 
from  the  cultivation  of  spiritual  thought  and  life. 

I  ventured  to  say  to  him  one  day : 

"Uncle  Eben,  who  lives  on  the  Cape,  is  sixty- 
five  years  old,  and  yet  you  look  older  than  he." 

"Eben  never  had  any  ambition.  He  is  more 
contented  with  ten  thousand  dollars  than  I  am 
with  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  He  just 
reads  religious  books,  goes  to  church,  and  roams 
about  the  woods  and  pastures  like  a  cow-boy." 

"But  he  seems  happy.  He  is  very  intelligent, 
and  has  good  health.  He  looks  like  a  young 
man,  and  I  wish  you  had  less  care  and  did  not 
grow  old  so  fast." 

"  It  can't  be  helped  ;  it  can't  be  helped.  It  is 
our  American  life,  my  boy.  It  did  not  use  to  be 
so,  when  the  country  was  new  and  people  were 
more  independent  and  democratic ;  but  things 
have  changed.  Life  is  a  fever.  Your  Uncle 
Eben  may  be  wiser  than  I,  after  all,  but  I  am 
launched  on  a  rushing  stream,  and  I  must  go  on 
with  the  tide." 

I  was  touched  at  this  frank  confession.  One  of 
my  older  brothers  was  studying  abroad  ;  another 
was  idling  at  Newport ;  their  expensive  habits 
were  compelling  father  to  be  more  ambitious  in 


UP    FROM    THE    CAPE.  I  I 

his  business  schemes,  increasing  his  anxieties  and 
the  number  of  his  gray  hairs. 

My  sister  Carrie  came  into  the  room  where  we 
were  sitting  —  father  and  I  —  and  said  : 

"Jeff,  have  you  decided  where  you  will  take 
your  vacation  ?  " 

"  Yes,  partly  ;  so  far  as  this.  I  shall  go  where 
it  will  make  father  as  little  expense  as  possible." 

"Jeff,  you  are  a  noble  boy,"  said  father. 

"Thank  you."     I  saw  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  Carrie,  let  us  go  down  on  the  Cape,  and  spend 
July  and  August  with  Uncle  Eben  and  Aunt 
Desire." 

"Agreed,  Jeff.  I  always  liked  Uncle  Eben  — 
and  Aunt  Desire  —  well,  she  is  a  character." 

"  I  am  sick  of  all  this  straining  after  show  and 
effect ;  all  this  slavery  to  stylish  living ;  all  of 
this  aping  Europeans  in  dress,  politics,  religion, 
music  and  art,  and  I  would  like  to  spend  a  few 
weeks  in  a  home  of  true  republican  simplicity." 

"Why,  Jeff!"  said  father,  the  faint  light  of  a 
smile  overspreading  his  features.  "  How  in  the 
world,  in  the  present  state  of  society,  did  such  a 
thought  ever  come  to  you  ?  " 

"  For  whom  did  you  name  me  ?  " 

"For  whom?  Why,  Jefferson,  Thomas  Jef 
ferson." 


12  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

"  So  I  have  been  told.  I  have  been  reading 
the  life  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  and  I  think  it  would 
be  a  right  good  plan  for  American  society  to 
return  to  his  simple,  democratic  principles.  I  am 
sick  of  snobs  and  second-hand  Americans.  Uncle 
Eben  agrees  with  me.  Won't  we  have  a  good 
time  talking  politics  and  telling  stories  under  the 
trees,  —  Uncle  Eben,  Carrie  and  I?" 

"And  your  Aunt  Desire?  Don't  forget  her," 
said  father,  laughing,  and  dropping  the  Stock  Re 
porter  into  his  lap.  "  Yes,  your  Uncle  Eben  can 
talk,  and  what  he  don't  know  about  everything 
your  Aunt  Desire  can  tell  him.  Yes,  yes  ;  his 
home  is  one  of  'true  republican  simplicity.'  Glad 
you're  going,  Jeff.  And  you,  Carrie.  You  cer 
tainly  will  have  all  of  my  good  wishes." 

And  so  it  was  decided  that  we  should  go  down 
to  the  old  family  home,  Carrie  and  I.  We  would 
study  local  history  with  Uncle  Eben  ;  we  would 
get  Aunt  Desire  to  relate  to  us  the  old-time 
stories  of  provincial  days.  Uncle  Eben  was  a 
famous  story  teller,  too,  but  rather  historical  and 
heavy.  For  a  story  spiced  with  point  and  pro 
vincialism,  I  have  known  no  equal  to  Aunt 
Desire. 

Then,  when  the  August  days  began  to  mellow 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  13 

towards  fall,  we  would  go  to  the  historic  camp 
meeting  at  the  Vineyard. 

Uncle  Eben  himself  was  a  Methodist ;  a  broad 
one.  The  reading  of  Swedenborg,  Emerson,  and 
some  of  the  best  books  of  modern  science  had 
widened  his  mental  horizon  to  such  an  extent  as 
to  make  Aunt  Desire  tremble  for  his  orthodoxy. 
But  when  Uncle  Eben  was  a  boy,  the  good 
orthodox  people  of  the  town  had  compelled  the 
Methodists  to  pay  taxes  to  help  support  their 
church.  The  Methodists  protested;  represented 
themselves  as  a  persecuted  people,  and  grew.  At 
last  they  quite  outnumbered  their  orthodox  breth 
ren,  and  then,  acting  upon  the  latter's  own  rule, 
they  voted  them  out  of  the  church  and  took 
possession  of  it.  Eben  being  a  Jeffersonian 
Democrat  in  politics,  sympathized  with  the  Meth 
odists  in  their  struggle  against  "taxation  without 
representation,"  and  united  with  them.  Aunt 
Desire  was  a  Methodist  pure  and  simple,  and  had 
not  been  influenced  by  politics  in  her  religious 
views.  She  used  to  declare  in  class  meetings 
that  she  "never  yet  feared  the  face  of  clay,"  and 
our  story  will  show  that  she  continued  in  the 
same  resolute  state  of  mind  after  youthful  curls 
had  given  place  to  cap  borders.  But  Desire 
Enclicott  at  heart  was  a  very  good  woman. 


14  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

As  for  myself,  I  was  in  danger  of  following  my 
brothers  into  purposeless,  pleasure-seeking  habits 
of  life.  My  chief  amusement  was  billiards,  and 
this  was  leading  me  at  chance  times,  with  certain 
agreeable  but  profitless  companions,  to  the  bar. 
A  reading  of  the  life  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  on 
account  of  my  name,  had  somewhat  interested  me 
in  the  early  principles  and  simple  habits  of  Amer 
ican  society  a  century  ago.  This  experience  had 
given  me  a  certain  respect  for  Uncle  Kben's 
primitive  opinions  and  manner  of  living,  and  had 
made  pleasant  to  my  imagination  a  long  summer 
vacation  on  the  Cape. 


CHAPTER    II. 

IN     WHICH     AUNT     DESIRE     CONSTRUCTS     A     MODEL 
FAMILY     TREE. 

"Aunt  Desire,"  as  every  one  called  her,  was 
not  an  ignorant  woman,  as  I  found  out,  to  my 
surprise,  before  I  had  spent  a  week  at  the  old 
house.  She  used  provincialisms  freely,  and  Cape 
adjectives  and  expressions  of  surprise,  and  some 
times  omitted  the  final  "g"  in  her  participles;  but 
on  most  subjects  to  which  she  "had  given  her 
mind,"  she  was  remarkably  well  informed. 

That  she  overrated  the  value  of  things  of  which 
she  had  read  but  not  seen,  was  true  ;  more  culti 
vated  people  have  done  the  same  thing.  That 
she  regarded  Boston  much  as  the  kitchen-girl 
looks  upon  Rome,  and  anticipated  a  visit  to  that 
city  much  as  the  old  palmer  dreamed  of  his  pil 
grimage,  are  also  true.  What  wonder!  Had  she 
not  read  the  Boston  Journal,  Advertiser  or  Trans 
cript  daily  for  twenty  years,  and  a  religious  Boston 
paper  for  even  a  longer  period  ? 


1 6  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

My  first  discoveries  of  Aunt  Desire's  goodly 
stock  of  intelligence  were  hardly  pleasant  experi 
ences.  I  happened  to  say,  carelessly,  one  day, 
that  I  seldom  attended  the  missionary  concert  in 
"our"  church  ;  that  I  was  not  much  interested  in 
foreign  missions  ;  and  added  the  not  very,  original 
remark,  that  "  there  were  heathen  enough  at 
home,"  especially  if  one's  home  was  in  Boston. 

She  was  making  blackberry  pies  —  how  deli 
cious  these  pies  were,  and  how  delightful  their 
memory  is  yet!  —  when  I  volunteered  the  afore 
said  remarks  about  foreign  missions  and  Boston's 
heathen.  She  took  her  hands  out  of  the  dough, 
and  turned  around  in  a  most  awe-inspiring  way, 
with  a  look  of  mingled  pain  and  compassion  in 
her  face. 

"  Can  I  believe  my  own  ears  ? "  she  said. 
"And  you  a  Boston  young  man,  too  !  Where  the 
Woman's  Board  meets,  too  !  " 

I  waited  for  a  third  rebuke,  but  she  only  looked 
at  me  for  a  time,  her  black  eyes  snapping. 

Then,  seizing  the  rolling-pin  and  lifting  it  aloft, 
she  proceeded  to  free  her  mind  in  such  a  way  that 
I  sat  transfixed  with  amazement. 

"  Heathen  enough  at  home  !  Suppose  St.  Paul, 
the  great  Apostle  to  the  Gentiles,  had  said  that ! 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  I/ 

Why,  the  gospel  would  never  have  gone  out  of 
Jerusalem !  If  St.  Augustine  had  said  tJiat,  he 
never  would  have  gone  to  preach  in  England,  and 
you  might  have  been  a  heathen  to-day  !  Did  you 
know  that  your  ancestors  were  heathen,  wanderin' 
about  in  sheep-skins,  and  that  they  were  con 
verted  by  foreign  missionaries  ?  Do  you  know 
that  the  missionary  movement  is  the  march  of  the 
church  towards  the  millenium  ? 

"  If  there  is  anything  that  makes  Desire  Endi- 
cott  indignant  clear  through  and  through  it  is  to 
hear  some  reconstructed  Gentile  like  you ;  some 
descendant  of  a  barbarian  nation,  like  the  bloody 
old  Saxons  from  which  nation  yon  sprung,  some 
narrow-minded,  purse-puckered,  empty-headed  igno 
ramus  like  —  well,  not  you  this  time, — like  Dea 
con  Bamp,  for  instance,  speakin'  lightly  about  the 
spread  of  the  Gospel,  and  makin'  an  excuse  for  a 
want  of  generosity  by  talkin'  about  the  heathen  at 
home  !  Bless  my  soul,  if  the  heathen  at  home 
were  to  be  left  to  such  people  for  help  and  enlight 
enment  they  would  perish  beyond  any  hope  of  re 
covery  !  Not  that  I  mean  to  say  that  yon  are  not 
generous,  but  it  is  plain  to  be  seen  that  you  have 
not  been  brought  up  right." 

"  I  have  not  found  time  to  read  much  upon  the 


1 8  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

subject,  Aunt  Desire;  perhaps  I  ought  to  be 
better  informed." 

"  Did  you  ever  find  time  to  read  novels  and 
such?"  continued  Aunt  Desire,  exasperatingly. 

"A  few." 

"  Don't  you  ever  read  the  Missionary  Herald 
and  Life  and  Light  f" 

"Mother  subscribes  for  them,"  I  added.  "I 
always  put  ten  cents  into  the  missionary  box," 
and  I  thought  I  had  now  made  my  peace. 

"  Ten  cents  ! "  Up  went  the  rolling  pin.  "  Ten 
cents  !  Well,  well,  be  charitable.  Ten-cent  pieces 
were  made  on  purpose.  Why,  Jefferson  Endicott, 
/give  $20  a  year  to  the  American  Board  and  $5 
to  the  Woman's  Board,  and  I  save  the  money  out 
of  the  profits  I  make  by  sellin'  eggs,  and  I've 
always  done  my  whole  duty  by  the  heathen  at 
home.  Nobody  never  asked  Desire  Endicott  for 
anything  that  was  good  for  them,  that  she  could 
give,  that  they  didn't  get  it.  You  ask  the  neigh 
bors  if  it  isn't  so. 

"  You  will  find  in  my  room  the  lives  of  Wm. 
Carey,  and  Dr.  Judson,  and  Harriet  Newell,  and 
all  the  Mrs.  Judsons,  and  the  reports  of  all  the 
different  societies  for  the  last  ten  years.  When 
you  feel  lonesome,  boy,  you  are  free  to  go  and  get 


AUNT   DESIRE    AND    JEFF. 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  1 9 

them.  I  hope  I  have  n't  offended  you,  nor  nothin'. 
If  I  have,  I  beg  your  pardon.  The  fact  is  there's 
nothin'  you  could  have  said  that  would  have  so 
riled  up  the  old  Adam  in  me  as  just  tJiat  /" 

A  short  time  after  receiving  this  indignant 
protest  and  its  apologies  I  happened  to  pass  the 
open  door  of  Aunt  Desire's  room.  I  glanced  at 
her  library  of  missionary  literature,  every  book  of 
which  she  had  more  than  once  read,  and  I  felt 
sure  that  she  knew  vastly  more  than  I  about  the 
religious  progress  of  the  world,  and  I  mentally 
resolved  to  put  twenty-five  cents  into  the  contri 
bution  box  at  any  future  missionary  meetings  I 
might  attend. 

The  episode  gave  me  a  view  of  Aunt  Desire's 
heart  and  character.  She  was  wonderfully  well 
read  on  certain  subjects,  and  carried  conviction 
with  the  expression  of  her  opinions  ;  while  on  other 
subjects  her  lack  of  information  was  as  remark 
able.  I  found  this  to  be  characteristic  of  many  of 
the  wives  of  the  old  Barnstable  county  farmers  : 
they  were  clear  in  judgment,  strong  in  conviction, 
and  undeviating  in  principle ;  but  their  intelli 
gence  was  directed  to  one  thing.  In  many  cases 
that  one  thing  was  church  history.  One  woman 
that  I  met  was  perfectly  familiar  with  Edwards' 


20  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

theological  works ;  another  with  the  lives  of 
English  Wesleyan  preachers,  such  as  Whitefield, 
Nelson,  Fletcher  of  Madeley ;  another  could  recite 
all  of  Dr.  Watts'  hymns  ;  another  was  a  student 
of  Neander  and  d'Aubigne.  All  were  firm  believ 
ers  in  republican  equality  and  missionary  move 
ments.  On  thinking  over  the  matter,  I  cannot 
see  why  this  intelligence  may  not  be  as  useful  to 
the  \vorld  in  its  results  as  the  aesthetic  studies 
and  attainments  of  their  young  Boston  sisters. 
In  fact,  I  came  to  have  a  very  deep  respect 
for  it. 

They  were  model  housekeepers,  and  never 
intrusted  the  fine  art  of  cooking  to  some  newly- 
arrived  Bridget  from  the  Green  Island,  where 
viands  are  not  plenty,  and  where  Mrs.  Parloa  does 
not  hold  schools.  They  regarded  cooking,  like 
the  care  of  their  children,  as  one  of  the  trusts  of 
home.  All  this  was  different  from  the  experi 
ences  of  the  homes  I  had  been  accustomed  to 
visit,  and  I  must  say  increased  my  regard  for  the 
wholesome  lives  of  the  sturdy  dames  of  Barn- 
stable. 

The  house  was  old,  but  well-preserved  and 
roomy.  Aunt  Desire's  housekeeping  was  as  per 
fect  as  the  art  can  be  made.  Everything  in  the 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  21 

house  was  simple,  though  the  furniture  had  an 
old-time  elegance,  but  so  arranged  as  to  have  an 
air  of  comfort. 

"Yes,"  said  Uncle  Eben  to  me,  one  day,  "De 
sire  is  a  good  housekeeper,  but  her  intelligence  is 
like  the  handle  of  a  jug,  all  on  one  side.  She  has 
a  sharp  tongue  ;  look  out,  my  boy  !  " 

I  soon  had  a  very  original  illustration  of  the 
truth  of  the  last  remark. 

Both  uncle  and  aunt  had  much  family  pride  and 
were  lovers  of  historic  lore,  and  of  everything  that 
savored  of  antiquity.  Eben  knew  the  old  colonial 
history  of  Plymouth  thoroughly,  and  the  family 
histories  of  most  of  the  early  settlers  on  the  Cape, 
at  Plymouth  and  on  the  shores  of  Massachusetts 
Bay. 

One  rainy  afternoon,  when  I  could  neither  walk, 
ride,  nor  sail,  Uncle  said  to  me  : 

"  Do  you  draw  ?  " 

"  I  have  taken  lessons  in  drawing." 

"  I  notice  you  have  some  large  sheets  of  white 
paper,  what  do  you  call  it  ?  " 

"  Bristol  board." 

"  Would  you  be  willing  to  draw  for  me  a  family 
tree  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  as  well  as  I  can,"  and  I  at  once  went 


22  UP   FROM   THE  CAPE. 

to  my  room  for  paper  and  pencils,  and  on  return 
ing,  asked  how  I  should  begin. 

"Draw  the  roots,  first." 

"What  ought  he  to  write  at  the  roots  of  the 
tree  ?  "  he  said,  turning  to  Aunt  Desire. 

"My  family  began  with  the  Toogoods,  of  Corn 
wall.  Zephaniah  Toogood  was  a  soldier  in  Crom 
well's  army.  He  \vas  killed  at  the  battle  of 
Marston  Moor." 

Aunt  Desire's  cap-border  seemed  to  rise  after 
giving  me  this  bit  of  family  history,  and  she 
walked  to  and  fro  in  a  very  sweet  frame  of  mind. 

"  I  can  trace  the  Endicotts  further  back  than 
that,"  said  Uncle  Eben,  innocently.  "The  Eng 
lish  revolution  is  of  a  comparative  recent  date." 

Aunt  Desire  started.  Her  pride  was  touched. 
She  moved  her  chair  away  from  us  and  sat  in 
silence,  an  unusual  mood  for  her. 

Uncle  brought  out  of  an  old  mahogany  desk, 
some  curious  books  and  carefully-kept  papers,  and 
we  spent  several  hours  together  carefully  con 
structing  a  family  tree.  It  was  a  very  interesting 
occupation,  although  Aunt  Desire's  silence  made 
me  feel  rather  uncomfortable. 

"  Have  you  got  through  ?  "  asked  Aunt  Desire, 
meekly. 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  23 

"Yes,"  said  uncle. 

"Isn't  it  noble?"  asked  I.  "I  should  think 
any  family  would  be  proud  of  a  tree  like  that." 

"  That  tree  is  all  full  of  Endicotts,  aint  it  ?  " 
asked  Aunt  Desire. 

"  Endicotts  and  their  wives  ;  a  regular  Endicott 
pair  tree." 

"  How  fur  back  does  it  go  ?  " 

"To  the  Plantagenets." 

"Now,  Jeff,  I  want  you  to  draw  me  a  family 
tree." 

"A  Toogood  tree?"  asked  uncle.  Aunt  Desire 
did  not  answer. 

"Certainly,"  said  I.  "Here  is  a  full  sheet  of 
paper.  How  shall  I  begin  ?  " 

"  I  should  begin  away  back  to  beginnin',"  said 
Aunt  Desire.  "  You  might  draw  a  little  bioplasm 
and  a  little  protoplasm,  that  Eben  tells  about,  for 
the  roots,  and  then  write  on  one  root  '  Adam '  and 
on  another  '  Eve.'  " 

"  Next  ?  " 

"  Cain  and  Abel,"  said  Aunt  Desire.  "  No, 
Cain  didn't  belong  to  our  family.  I  should  put 
merry  'The  Jews.'  " 

"Well." 

"  King  Solomon.     He  didn't  do  quite  right  in 


24  UP  FROM   THE  CAPE. 

all  things,  but  I  suppose  I  will  have  to  own 
him." 

"Next,  put  Alfred  the  Great,"  she  added. 

"And,"  said  Aunt  Desire,  in  a  loud  whisper, 
"leave  out  the  Endicotts,  when  you  get  to  them. 
I've  heard  that  old  Governor  Enclicott  hung 
witches.  I  wouldn't  want  any  such  folks  as  those 
on  my  family  tree,  would  you  ?  " 

Uncle  Eben  looked  drolly  at  Aunt  and  me. 

"I'll  go  and  get  tea  now,"  said  Aunt  Desire." 
She  went  out  with  the  air  of  one  who  was  mistress 
of  the  situation,  and  that  was  the  last  I  ever  heard 
of  the  family  tree. 

But  if  Aunt  was  sometimes  sharp  to  Uncle  she 
was  nevertheless  true.  He  never  had  a  sorrow  or 
a  pain  that  she  did  not  surfer  too.  She  antici 
pated  his  every  want,  and  generally,  except  in  one 
thing,  did  everything  in  her  power  to  make  his 
life  happy. 

This  one  exception  is  the  point  of  my  homely 
story,  and  I  will  clearly  explain  it  here.  Aunt  was 
an  ambitious  woman.  She  was  disappointed  that 
Uncle  was  not  a  more  ambitious  man.  She  wish 
ed  him  to  struggle  for  wealth  and  political  honors. 
For  years  she  had  daily  reminded  him  what  he 
might  have  been. 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  2$ 

When  father's  business  was  so  successful  that 
he  purchased  a  stone-front  house  in  a  fashionable 
street  in  Boston,  and  furnished  it  with  a  good 
degree  of  elegance,  Aunt  Desire  declared  an  open 
war  of  words  against  Uncle's  contentment.  Envy 
and  jealousy  led  her  often  to  say  bitter  things. 
Uncle  kept  an  even  temper,  and  I  once  overheard 
him  say :  — 

"  You  have  not  seen  the  end  of  brother's  affairs 
yet ;  ambition  and  an  expensive  family  are  con 
suming  him.  I  would  not  exchange  places  with 
him  for  his  wealth.  What  you  need,  Desire,  is  a 
contented  spirit  and  a  thankful  heart.  This  world 
is  not  our  long  home,  Desire." 

The  overheard  remark  about  father  and  his 
affairs  troubled  me.  It  left  in  my  mind  a  present 
iment  of  evil,  that  returned  again  and  again  like  a 
shadow  in  my  thoughtful  hours.  I  loved  Uncle 
and  respected  his  opinions.  I  am  sure  he  loved 
me,  and  he  did  what  father  seldom  seemed  to  have 
time  to  do,  made  me  his  friend  and  expressed  his 
affection  for  me. 

He  had  never  showed  this  spirit  more  than 
during  this  last  visit.  His  own  sons  were  well 
settled  in  the  West.  I  could  see  that  he  was 
lonely  at  heart,  and  I  was  happy  in  his  affectionate 


26  UP   FROM  THE    CAPE. 

confidences.  The  more  I  associated  with  him  the 
more  father's  condition  and  affairs  troubled  me  ; 
his  life  seemed  to  be  a  struggle  for  things  that 
gave  him  no  happiness,  that  left  him  no  time  for 
social  or  domestic  affections,  or  independent 
thought,  and  that  sooner  or  later  would  turn  into 
dust.  The  question  came  again  and  again  into 
my  mind,  —  which  will  time  prove  the  wiser  and 
the  better  life,  father's  or  Uncle  Eben's  ? 


CHAPTER    III. 

MRS.      DKSIKE      ENDICOTT      DECIDES      TO      COME      UP 
FROM    THE    CAPE. 

"  Now  do  hear  that  gal  talk,  Eben  Endicott ! 
And  they  always  told  that  Boston  wimmen  was 
proud,  too  !  Just  as  sure  as  you  live,  and  as  sar- 
tin  as  my  name  is  Desire,  I'm  going  to  accept  that 
there  invitation.  I've  been  wantin'  to  make  a 
pilgrimage  to  Boston  all  my  life. 

"  In  the  fust  place,  I  want  to  go  to  the  Monday 
Lectureship.  There  are  a  few  things  in  heaven 
and  on  earth  that  I  don't  quite  understand,  and 
Parson  White  don't  explain  um  at  all  to  my  satis 
faction.  Why,  he  don't  even  know  who  Melchiz- 
edek  was  !  I  asked  him  once  in  the  Bible  Class 
what  made  the  grass  green  and  the  sky  blue,  and 
he  couldn't  tell ;  and  then  I  made  the  simple 
inquiry  as  to  whether  there  would  be  such  a  thing 
as  sound  if  there  was  no  one  to  hear  it,  and  he 
couldn't  answer  that ;  and  I  don't  think  he  could 
explain  how  it  is  a  man  raises  his  hand  to  his 


28  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

head.  What  some  people  don't  know  in  this 
world  is  amazin'.  But  I  shall  have  a  chance  to 
find  out  all  about  these  unknowable  things  when 
I  come  up  from  the  Cape,  Carrie. 

"  Then,  too,  I  want  to  hear  some  music  before 
I  die.  If  I  have  one  desire  more  than  another, 
after  havin'  all  the  great  mysteries  of  the  past  and 
future  made  clear  to  me,  it  is  to  hear  the  great 
organ.  They  say  some  of  the  pipes  are  bigger  'n 
one's  body,  and  that  it  takes  a  steam-engine  to 
make  it  go.  Bless  your  soul!  just  think  o'  that, 
Ebenezer  Endicott !  Wot  you  laughin'  about, 
Carrie  ?  Aint  it  so  ? 

"The  fact  is  I'm  musical  myself,  naturally.  You 
wouldn't  think  so,  now  would  ye,  but  I  used  to 
sing  in  the  choir.  I  never  told  you  what  a  dread 
ful  mortification  I  experienced  the  fust  time  I 
sung  in  church,  did  I  ?  No,  well,  I  will  some  day. 
It  is  a  sort  of  curious  story,  not  of  much  account ; 
do  to  tell  some  day  after  a  clam-bake  in  the 
orchard. 

"First  was  theology,  next  music. 

"Well,  I  want  to  consult  some  o'  those  great 
physicians.  I've  had  some  chronic  troubles  goin' 
on  nigh  upon  twenty  year.  I've  been  to  all  the 
physicians  in  Barnstable  County,  but  they  haven't 


UP   FROM   THE  CAPE.  29 

done  me  any  good.  Why,  would  you  believe  it, 
they  are  so  ignorant  that  each  contradicts  the 
other,  and  I  don't  get  any  satisfaction  at  all. 
There  aint  any  two  doctors  on  the  Cape  that 
has  told  me  that  the  same  thing  ailed  me,  or  that 
prescribed  the  same  remedy,  and  I  have  used 
roots  and  yarbs  until  I  am  tired. 

"  Did  ye  ever  read  the  doctors'  advertisements 
in  the  Boston  papers,  Eben  ?  Wonder  o'  wonders, 
what  cures  they  do  perform  !  Make  ye  all  over 
scientifically,  chipper  as  a  milkmaid,  and  stout  as 
a  race-horse.  .  I  want  advice  in  some  place  where 
the  doctors  are  at  least  well  enough  educated  to 
tell  you  the  same  thing,  and  recommend  the  same 
remedy. 

"There  is  a  little  matter  of  law,  too,  that  I 
want  to  know  about,  but  that  aint  for  your  ears, 
Eben. 

"Then,  too,  I  want  to  see  Richard  Follett  and 
his  new  wife.  Dick  has  got  rich,  they  say.  He 
had  a  very  hard  time  of  it  down  here  on  the  Cape. 
But  it  was  in  him  to  be  somebody,  and  when  that 
kind  of  a  spirit  is  in  a  boy  nothin'  can  stand 
against  it.  Ye  can't  make  an  eagle  run  round  a 
barnyard  like  a  hen,  as  Mr.  Beecher  says.  But 
they  do  say  that  Dick  is  killin'  himself  with  work, 


30  UP   FROM    THE   CAPE. 

and  is  merely  heapin'  up  money  for  an  easy-going 
family  to  spend  after  he's  dead  and  gone. 

"  I  have  also  a  bag  full  of  poetry  that  I  want  to 
sell  for  Flora  Pink,  Jerry  Pink's  daughter.  The 
Pinks  are  awful  poor,  and  Flora  is  kind  o'  sickly 
and  needs  the  money.  The  editors  of  those  rich 
papers  would  be  mighty  small  not  to  buy  that 
poetry  when  I  tell  um  all  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  was  written.  Some  of  it  was  writ  over 
the  dye-tub,  when  that  there  gal  was  waitin'  for 
the  dye  to  set ;  and  some  of  it  was  written  at 
midnight.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  Five 
of  the  pieces  are  on  "  Spring,"  and  four  on 
"Autumn."  The  last  are  very  melancholy  ones. 
Flora  's  put  into  my  keeping  poetry  enough  to 
supply  all  the  editors  of  the  city  for  a  spell.  Now, 
does  poetry  command  a  good  fair  price,  Carrie  ? 

"Well,  I've  been  intending  to  go  up  from  the 
Cape  for  forty  years,  and  now,  Eben,  I've  been 
invited,  and  by  Carrie  Endicott,  too,  whose  father 
lives  on  the  Back  Bay,  and  keeps  his  carriage. 
And  I'm  goin',  sure,  and  next  fall,  too.  The 
Bible  says,  With  all  thy  gettin's  get  wisdom.  And 
Boston,  as  everybody  knows,  is  the  fountain-head 
of  wisdom  and  learnin',  from  which  all  the  streams 
of  intelligence  flow.  A  great  many  of  the  people 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  3* 

know  so  much  they  go  crazy,  they  say.  I  don't 
know  how  that  may  be  ;  but  Carrie,  Carrie  Endi- 
cott !  you  needn't  laugh  !  You  may  depend  upon 
it  that  next  winter  I'm  comin'  up  from  the  Cape. 

"  Think  of  it,  Eben  Endicott !  I  never  have 
been  out  of  sight  of  the  smoke  of  the  chimbly  all 
my  days.  Never  had  nothin'  nor  went  anywhere. 
You've  always  been  just  contented  with  a  few 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  property  and  a  lot  of 
old  books  ;  and  I've  just  done  your  cookin'  and 
mendin',  and  gone  neighborin'  and  to  the  camp- 
meetin's." 

"  Only  the  light  kind  of  people  travel." 

"Who  says  that,  Eben?  Emerson?  I  thought 
so.  Solomon  never  said  a  thing  like  that." 

"St.  Paul?" 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  Yes,  what  did  he  say  ? 
That  I  must  n't  come  up  from  the  Cape  ?  " 

"  Therewith  to  be  content." 

"That's  what  he  said,  did  he,  Eben?  Well,  I 
don't  care  what  he  said.  My  mind's  made  up, 
Eben,  and  I'm  just  goin'.  Now,  there ! 

"  There,  he's  gone  out  at  last,  Carrie.  Think 
of  what  a  man  Eben  might  have  been  if  he'd  been 
ambitious  like  me,  and  had  improved  his  oppor 
tunities.  But  you  know  what  husband  is,  you 


32  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

know  ;  he's  a  clever  man,  a  very  clever  man,  and 
a  good  provider  and  aforehanded,  and  he  brought 
up  his  children  well.  Don't  say  nothin'  ;  now 
that  he's  gone  I  will  tell  you  that  other  reason 
why  I  want  to  come  up  from  the  Cape.  That 
legal  matter.  He  don't  approve  of  what  I  did, 
husband  didn't.  You  know  what  Eben  is  ;  he's  a 
good  man  enough  as  men  go,  but  no  force  like 
me.  Don't  ye  never  say  nothin',  I  should  feel 
dreadful  bad  if  anything  were  to  happen  to  Eben  ; 
he's  always  been  a  good  provider,  as  I  said,  and 
always  treated  me  well.  I  never  asked  him  for 
anything  in  my  life  that  he  didn't  go  right  off  and 
get  for  me. 

"It's  a  dead  secret  —  what  I'm  about  to  tell 
ye.  Don't  mention  it  for  the  world.  I've  been 
investiri .  Well,  I  ought  to  have  had  my  divi 
dends,  five  per  cent  a  montli,  a  year  or  two  ago, 
but  they  don't  come ;  they  will  be  all  the  larger 
when  they  do  come,  but  there  is  a  sort  of  myste- 
riousness  about  the  thing  that  I  want  to  have 
cleared  up.  That's  one  of  the  reasons  why  I  wish 
to  come  up  from  the  Cape. 

"It's  a  curious  story,  and  I  must  tell  you  all 
about  it.  You  may  have  heard  me  speak  of  Rev. 
Dr.  Gamm.  They  used  to  call  him  the  light- 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  33 

house  preacher,  he  knew  so  much  about  every 
thing.  He  certainly  was  very  gifted  in  his 
tongue  ;  it  would  go  like  a  windmill  on  a  March 
afternoon.  He  was  a  very  social  man,  the  doctor 
was.  Husband  used  to  say  that  he  had  the  talent 
of  veri  similitude,  whatever  that  might  be. 

"Well,  the  doctor  was  very  unfortunate.  He 
had  a  disease  of  the  throat.  It  came  upon  him 
right  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  compelled  him  to 
hide  his  light  under  a  bushel,  or,  to  speak  more 
figuratively,  the  lighthouse  went  under  a  cloud. 
So  he  became  an  insurance  agent.  The  company 
is  all  busted  up  now,  but  it  paid  him  a  great 
salary  while  it  lasted,  $3000  a  year.  His  name 
appeared  as  treasurer  on  the  advertisements  of 
the  company,  although  he  told  me  that  he  really 
had  nothing  to  do  except  to  (write  up)  the  company 
for  the  newspapers,  and  sign  his  name  to  such 
papers  as  the  company  sent  to  him,  and  to  make 
out  the  reports. 

"He  grew  very  fat;  his  throat  trouble  was 
reduced  to  nothing  but  a  'hem,'  and  as  his  work 
was  very  light,  he  and  his  family  used  to  board  in 
different  places,  at  fine  hotels.  He  said  that  he 
looked  upon  the  insurance  business  as  the  Lord's 
work,  since  it  provided  for  the  widow  and  the 


34  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

orphan,  and  so  he  left  off  preachin'  altogether  for 
a  spell. 

"  Three  summers  ago  he  came  down  to  Sandwich 
to  look  for  a  boardin'  place  for  himself  and  family. 
He  said  that  he  would  rather  spend  the  summer 
at  Sandwich  than  on  the  Vineyard,  because  he 
could  go  to  the  city  or  to  the  Vineyard  from  here 
any  day  as  he  liked.  He  thought  he  would  like  to 
board  in  a  farm  house  for  a  change.  I  took  him. 

"One  day  as  the  Doctor  and  his  family,  husband 
and  I,  were  settin'  under  the  apple  trees  —  I  well 
remember  the  afternoon,  for  a  shower  was  comin' 
up,  and  shadows  of  clouds  were  darkenin'  the  bay 
—  the  Doctor  related  to  us  a  very  interestin'  story 
about  a  discovery  that  had  been  made  by  some  of 
the  Methodist  brethren  in  New  York.  It  made  a 
very  strong  impression  on  my  mind,  but  husband 
only  said  solemnly  :  — 

"  Dr.  Gamm,  people  don't  get  something  for 
nothing  honestly."  Sort  of  Emersonian  talk,  you 
see.  "The  Methodists  are  a  clean  people,"  says 
husband,  says  he.  "  They  have  had  a  clean  record 
for  one  hundred  years,  and  I  am  sorry  that  they 
should  so  far  forget  their  primitive  principles." 

"Dr.  Gamm  sort  o'  collapsed.  But  his  story  set 
me  all  of  a  curiosity.  It  was  something  like  this  : 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE,  35 

TREASURE    MOUNTAIN. 

"  There  was  a  gentleman  of  enormous  wealth  in 
California,  who  was  very  ambitious  to  benefit  the 
human  race  by  doin'  good  —  he  had  been  well 
brought  up  and  had  not  forgotten  his  early  educa 
tion.  You  know  what  Solomon  says.  Among 
this  man's  great  possessions  was  Treasure  Moun 
tain,  full  of  silver,  and  this  mountain  of  silver  he 
offered  to  the  good  Methodist  brethren  in  New 
York  to  establish  a  university  in  the  South  for  the 
education  of  young  men  for  the  ministry.  A 
regular  George  Peabody,  you  see. 

"Well,  a  company  had  been  formed  for  the 
removal  of  Silver  Mountain,  with  a  capital  of 
$10,000,000 ;  but  $50,000  was  needed  to  put  this 
mine,  which  reached  from  the  earth  to  the  heavens 
above,  in  workin'  order,  and  this  benevolent  gen 
tleman  was  willin'  that  certain  Methodist',  of  good 
standin'  and  deservin'  everyway,  should  subscribe 
to  that  amount,  towards  the  operation  of  the  mine, 
and  he  promised  that  the  company  would  pay  5 
per  cent,  a  month  on  such  investments. 

"  Five  per  cent,  a  month  !  That  took  me,  I  had 
five  hundred  dollars  that  I  had  been  savin',  and  I 
took  this  out  of  the  Saving  Bank  and  let  the  Doctor 
have  it  to  invest  in  Treasure  Mountain  for  the 


36  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

benefit  of  the  University  ;  also  for  my  own  benefit. 
Husband  didn't  approve  of  what  I  did — but  you 
know  what  husband  is,  you  know  ;  don't  you  ever 
say  nothin',  will  ye  ? 

"Well,  'tis  mighty  curious.  I  havn't  received 
no  dividends,  nor  heard  anything  of  my  $500 
since.  I  hear  that  Dr.  Gamm  has  an  office  in 
Boston,  and  I  shall  go  to  see  him  when  I  come  up 
from  the  Cape. 

"  I  read  a  paragraph  in  one  o£  the  papers  a  few 
weeks  ago  that  don't  sound  quite  right.  I  cut  it 
out.  Here  it  is  :  — 

"The  Methodist  brethren  who  took  stock  in  the 
T.  M.  Mine  are  now  firm  believers  in  the  doctrine  of 
original  sin  and  total  depravity.  All  new  stock  schemes 
are  held  in  great  disfavor  at  the  Methodist  head 
quarters.  No  promoter  of  a  new  mining  enterprise 
could  obtain  a  hearing  among  the  dominies  now,  even 
if  he  should  present  a  prospectus  setting  forth  three- 
foot  veins  of  silver  covered  with  two-foot  veins  of  gold, 
and  edged  with  all  the  precious  stones  spoken  of  in  the 
Book  of  Revelations." 

"  It  makes  me  feel  uneasy.  I  didn't  like  to  show 
it  to  husband ;  you  know  what  husband  is,  you 
know,  a  nice  man  and  a  good  provider,  and  all 
that,  but  —  well  you  won't  never  say  anything, 
will  ye,  Carrie  ?  " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

EBEN     FAVORS     DESIRE'S     PLANS     AND     ENTERTAINS 

CARRIE    WITH    HIS     YOUTHFUL    RECOLLECTIONS 

OF    MRS.    GREEN. 

It  was  a  mid-summer  day.  The  old  house  was 
shaded  by  a  cool  corner  of  the  old  orchard.  The 
doors  and  windows  were  open  and  we  sat  looking 
out  upon  the  long  meadows  of  Pocasset  and  the 
pleasant  waters  of  Buzzard's  Bay. 

There  was  the  same  expression  on  the  meadows 
and  the  sea.  In  every  breeze  that  passed,  the 
green  meadows  whitened  with  daisies,  and  green 
waters  with  foam.  There  was  a  clear  atmosphere, 
full  of  sunshine  over  the  sea ;  and  the  white  wings 
of  the  gulls  dipped  listlessly  through  it  on  their 
zigzag  way.  Here  and  there  hung  a  sail,  like  a 
broken  wing,  or  a  latine  canvas  of  old. 

The  ospreys  wheeled  overhead  and  screamed. 
In  the  orchard  an  oriole  flamed  around  its  nest. 
In  the  old  road  now  and  then  jogged  a  dilapidated 
vehicle,  scattering  the  sand. 


38  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE, 

It  was  like  a  land  of  dreams.  The  world  seemed 
to  have  gone  off  on  a  pic-nic,  and  to  have  left 
us  alone,  and  in  our  faces  was  a  contented  look,  as 
though  we  were  glad  to  be  left  behind. 

"  Well,  Desire,  I  am  perfectly  willing  you  should 
accept  Carrie's  invitation,  but  I  want  you  to  re 
member  that  wherever  you  may  go  you  will  find 
no  more  happiness,  no  more  beauty,  no  more 
faith,  hope  and  love,  no  more  wealth,  and  no  more 
worth  than  what  you  carry  with  you." 

Desire  pushed  her  spectacles  up  her  nose,  and 
put  her  hand  half  over  her  mouth  and  whispered 
obliquely  to  Carrie  : 

"Emerson.  He  just  gets  Emerson  to  think  for 
him,  husband  does,  /think  for  myself." 

"A  person  need  never  go  abroad  for  health," 
continued  Uncle,  "the  conditions  of  good  health 
are  not  outside  of  us  but  within  us.  And  a  per 
son  need  never  go  wandering  over  the  world  to 
find  the  Lord  ;  He's  just  as  near  to  Buzzard's  Bay 
as  anywhere  else." 

"There,  Eben,  you've  said  enough,  I  never  did 
yet  get  out  of  sight  of  the  smoke  of  the  chimbly." 

"I  ain't  going  to  make  any  objections,  Desire, 
to  your  going  up  to  Boston  from  the  Cape.  I 
only  hope  you'll  bring  back  with  you  as  much 
happiness  as  you  carry  away. 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  39 

"  I'm  contented  to  live  and  die  right  here  in  the 
old  house  where  I  was  born.  I've  my  Bible  (and 
that  is  as  good  as  the  Lectureship)  and  Shake 
speare,  and  all  the  best  histories  and  poets,  and 
when  I  want  a  little  worldly  wisdom  I  turn  to 
Emerson,  though  Job  said  about  all  that  Emerson 
has  said,  over  again,  thousands  of  years  ago. 

"And  I  am  perfectly  happy,  I  have  no  wish  to 
go  even  to  the  fair,  or  the  circus,  or  the  theatre, 
or  opera,  or  anywhere,  but  just  to  church  on  Sun 
day's,  and  the  Friday  evening  meetings,  town 
meetings  and  the  yearly  camp  meeting.  I  make 
clambakes  in  the  orchard  for  other  people's  enjoy 
ment  and  not  for  my  own.  I  like  to  see  other 
people  have  a  good  time,  and  I  am  always  willing 
to  put  my  own  feelings  aside  if  it  will  help  to 
make  anybody  happier. 

"The  greatest  happiness  we  can  have  in  this 
world  comes  from  forgetting  ourselves  and  in 
making  others  happy.  He  who  denies  himself  the 
most  receives  the  most  from  the  Lord. 

"  Running  after  amusement  always  looked  to 
me  a  very  selfish  thing.  Pleasure  flies  from  those 
who  seek  it,  and  comes  unsought  to  those  who  do 
not  think  about  it.  A  man  should  find  the  highest 
pleasures  of  life  in  his  purpose  and  occupations. 


40  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

Now,  I  am  not  hinting  at  you,  Desire,  I  just  want 
you  to  go  wherever  you  wish  to,  and  take  all  the 
comfort  that  you  possibly  can.  I  always  gave  free 
permission  to  my  boys  to  go  to  any  right  place 
whenever  they  asked  me. 

"And  the  consequence  was  that  they  didn't 
care  to  go  anywhere,  but  just  stayed  at  home  like 
their  father,  and  read  books  and  books.  Then 
they  went  out  West  and  became  farmers,  and  your 
brother,  Carrie,  went  to  Paris.  What  do  you 
think  of  that,  even  to  Paris,  where  all  those  polite 
French  people  are  that  we  read  about  in  the 
geography." 

"  Did  you  never  go  to  places  of  amusement, 
uncle  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Only  a  few  times  ;  that  was  when  I  was  a  boy. 
I  don't  object  to  such  things  when  they  are  pro 
perly  conducted,  only  they  are  not  to  my  taste. 
The  last  theatrical  performance  I  attended  was 
some  fifty  years  ago.  I  was  one  of  the  actors  my 
self." 

I  asked  for  the  story. 

Uncle  was  a  pleasant  story-teller,  when  the  sub 
ject  was  associated  with  his  early  life.  He  liked 
to  relate  historic  stories,  and  humorous  incidents  of 
his  boyhood  and  school  days.  The  latter  always 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  41 

pleased  me,  and  I  sometimes  noted  them  down  in 
my  journal.  So  I  will  first  introduce  Uncle  as  a 
story  teller,  in  his  account  of 

OUR    ENTERTAINMENTS. 

It  was  when  I  was  at  the  Academy.  One  of 
the  boys,  named  Brown,  who  was  a  great  lover  of 
Shakespeare,  went  to  Boston  and  became  stage- 
struck.  When  he  came  back  he  gave  some  per 
formances  in  his  room  for  the  benefit  of  the  class, 
and  at  last  he  suggested  to  us  boys  that  it  would 
be  a  capital  plan,  to  get  up,  as  he  said,  "  some, 
entertainments." 

"We  could  begin  with  a  concert,  and,  after 
some  study,  we  could  have  amateur  theatricals. 
We  could  at  least  give  Othello  strangling  Desde- 
mona.  That  would  produce  a  thrilling  effect,  and 
would  be  something  new  in  the  Academy." 

The  idea  of  strangling  Desdemona  seemed  to 
us  very  novel  and  picturesque  and  we  favored  it. 

There  was  quite  a  number  in  our  school  who 
enjoyed  a  local  reputation  for  their  declamatory 
abilities.  We  had  one  comic  genius,  and  a  singer 
or  two,  and  with  this  force  we  hoped  to  achieve 
success.  The  girls  of  our  acquaintance  all 
promised  to  come,  if  we  bought  tickets  for  them, 
and  pronounced  the  idea  "  splendid  !  " 


42  UP   FROM  THE   CAPE. 

The  only  difficulty  was  in  finding  a  suitable  place 
in  which  to  give  our  performance.  The  town-hall 
was  out  of  the  question,  the  vestries  of  the 
churches  equally  so,  the  school  an  impossibility, 
and  no  private  house  would  answer  provided  we 
could  secure  one. 

The  only  available  place  seemed  to  be  a  spacious 
hay-loft  over  Frank  Green's  barn.  But,  unfortun 
ately,  it  would  be  about  as  well  to  ask  Frank's 
mother  for  the  use  of  her  snapping  black  eyes  as 
for  her  hay-loft. 

Mrs.  Green  was  one  of  those  loud,  demonstra 
tive,  hard-working  women,  who  go  stormfully 
through  life,  swift,  strong  and  energetic,  like  a 
steam-engine,  equally  as  noisy,  and  almost  as  dan 
gerous  if  you  stood  in  her  way. 

She  was  the  terror  of  all  the  children,  although 
really  she  was  a  kind-hearted  woman  in  her  own 
way.  She  was  always  ready  to  do  a  good  turn  and 
help  a  neighbor  in  distress,  but  she  couldn't 
endure  boys  idling  about  her  premises.  She  was 
sure  they  were  trying  to  steal  eggs,  or  fruit,  or 
something  or  other  belonging  to  her ;  and  so  she 
used  to  sally  forth  on  them  with  her  eyes  aflame, 
clutching  in  her  red  right  hand  a  most  formidable 
cowhide. 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  43 

I  myself  had  two  memorable  encounters  with 
the  good  lady.  I  once  had  to  take  a  letter  to  a 
gentleman  whose  estate  adjoined  hers  ;  and, 
instead  of  going  around  and  reaching  it  by  the 
regular  road,  I  leaped  her  wall  and  took  a  short  cut 
across  lots. 

Just  as  I  got  about  half  way,  what  should  I 
behold  but  Mrs.  Green,  cowhide  in  hand,  accom 
panied  by  two  dogs,  bearing  down  on  me  !  To 
run  would  be  utter  madness,  because  I  should  be 
certain  to  have  the  canine  fangs  buried  in  my 
flesh  long  before  I  reached  the  opposite  wall. 
Strategy  alone  could  help  me  in  this  awful  emer 
gency.  Politeness  and  very  humble  bearing  on 
my  part  might  mollify  my  pursuer,  and  these  mild 
weapons  I  resolved  to  use,  encouraged  by  the 
recollection  that  discretion  is  the  better  part  of 
valor. 

My  plan  of  defence  was  instantly  conceived. 

I  stood  still,  and  began  looking  about  me  as  if 
bewildered. 

Down  swept  the  enemy  upon  me.  Before 
she  said  a  word  —  in  fact,  she  didn't  mean  to 
speak  much,  except  with  the  cowhide  —  I  very 
politely  asked  her  if  she  could  inform  me  the 
nearest  way  to  Mr.  Anderson's.  Her  eyes  flamed 


44  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

at  me  awhile,  then,  swallowing  a  lump  in  her 
throat,  she  pointed  with  her  weapon  the  nearest 
way  over  the  wall.  I  thanked  her  with  a  bow  and 
retreated  without  a  glance  behind,  and  felt  ex 
tremely  thankful  when  the  stone  wall  was  between 
us. 

The  other  encounter  forms  the  subject  of  this 
story. 

Frank  Green  —  a  nice,  quiet  lad,  like  his  late 
father  —  ascertained  that  his  mother  intended  to 
go  into  the  city  soon,  "for  all  day;"  at  \vhich  time 
we  might  have  the  hay-loft  for  our  entertainment. 

"  First-rate  !"  we  shouted. 

"Then  we'll  have  your  hay -loft,  Frank.  We'll 
have  plenty  of  time  to  get  ready!"  cried  Brown. 

"  Plenty  !"  we  shouted. 

"Tip-top !"  ejaculated  Brown.  "  And  see,  Frank, 
you  can  poke  round  up  there,  you  know,  in  the 
meantime,  and  put  things  to  rights  —  get  the  hay 
tucked  away  and  cleaned  up  a  bit,  you  know.  I 
s'pose  it  wouldn't  do  for  one  of  us  to  go  and  help 
you  ?" 

"  'Twouldn't  be  well  for  mother  to  catch  you, 
that's  all  !"  said  Frank,  ominously. 

"No!  Well,  all  right!  You'll  do  all  that's 
wanted,  Frank,  in  a  quiet  way,  so  as  not  to  excite 


UP  FROM    THE   CAPE.  45 

suspicion,"  said  Brown.  "  And  now,  boys,  you 
get  your  parts  committed,  and  we'll  have  a  rehear 
sal  as  soon  as  possible  —  next  Saturday  afternoon, 
perhaps,  down  back  of  old  Smith's  barn." 

Brown,  as  I  have  suggested,  was  a  forward, 
ambitious  lad,  and  he  took  the  whole  management 
of  the  affair  upon  himself,  although  the  suggestion 
was  mine,  in  point  of  fact.  Still  I  was,  I  confess, 
more  apt  at  suggesting  schemes  than  in  carrying 
them  into  execution,  and  so  very  willingly  con 
ceded  the  work  to  my  more  energetic  friend.. 

At  length  the  memorable  day  arrived.  It  was 
as  lovely  a  summer  day  as  one  could  wish,  just 
like  this.  A  brightness  over  everything,  and  our 
hopes  were  high  with  the  pleasure  we  were  about 
to  enjoy  and  afford  our  friends,  —  especially  our 
girl-friends,  who  would,  no  doubt,  be  charmed  with 
the  performance. 

Mrs.  Green  left  for  the  city  early  in  the  day, 
and  was  not  to  be  home  before  late  in  the  after 
noon.  Nearly  all  the  school  would  be  our  audi 
ence.  Everything  looked  in  a  fair  way  for  a 
brilliant  success. 

At  half-past  two,  the  hour  appointed,  we  began 
climbing  the  rickety  ladder  that  led  up  to  the 
hay-loft.  This,  of  itself,  made  no  little  sport,  but 


46  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

created  some  delay  on  account  of  the  timidity  of 
the  girls. 

In  the  course  of  time,  all  were  seated  on  such 
seats  as  could  be  improvised  for  the  occasion. 
There  were  over  twenty  of  us,  all  told,  speakers  and 
audience.  One  of  the  boys  led  off  with  a  song,  in 
such  a  harsh  voice  that  we  were  really  glad  when 
he  broke  down  in  the  third  verse  and  retired  amid 
the  applause  of  the  audience. 

Brown,  the  ambitious  Brown,  was  dressed  in  a 
stunning  manner,  and  had  no  fewer  than  three 
pieces  on  the  programme.  His  turn  came  next. 
He  stepped  to  the  platform,  or,  rather,  what  we 
called  such,  made  a  profound  bow,  and  just  as  he 
uttered  the  words,  "  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  a 
voice  from  below  shouting,  "  WHO'S  UP  THERE?" 
made  my  hair  stand  on  end. 

There  was  a  dead  silence. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  continued  Brown," 
"  I  arise  to  do  you  the  honor  of  giving  you  a 
selection  from  Shakespeare.  It  is  from  '  Othello,' 
and  I  think  you  never  saw  anything  like  the  per 
formance  that  I  am  now  about  to  perform."  [He 
was  right.)  "  I've  been  to  Boston  and  have  seen 
it  done,  and  it  brought  tears  to  the  aujunce's 
eyes. 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  47 

"Othello,  you  know,  was  jealous  of  Desdemona, 
his  wife.  One  day  he  came  home  and  found  her 
asleep,  and  determined  to  smother  her. with  a 
bolster.  This  I  shall  now  proceed  to  do." 

The  excitement  was  intense.  Brown  kicked 
together  some  loose  hay,  and  threw  his  thin  coat 
over  it  with  the  amazing  declaration  : 

"  That  is  Desdemona  !  " 

He  then  took  a  large  towel  he  had  brought,  and 
held  it  up : 

"  That  is  the  bolster." 

Brown  struck  an  attitude,  and  in  a  deep 
voice  approached  the  supposed  Desdemona  on  her 
couch. 

"/  will  kill  thee!" 

"  I  say,"  said  a  strange,  hesitating  voice,  not  at 
all  in  the  programme. 

There  was  a  short  silence,  then  Brown  pro 
ceeded. 

"I  must  weep."  [And  he  did.)  " But  they  are 
cruel  tears.  She  wakes  !  " 

Then,  in  a  squeaking  voice,  supposed  to  repre 
sent  the  waking  Desdemona,  he  said  : 

' '  WJws  there  ?     Othello  ? ' ' 

"  I  say,  whos  there  ?  " 

This  latter  question  was  hardly  an  echo.  The 
voice  seemed  to  come  up  from  below. 


48  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

But  Brown  was  full  of  his  subject  now,  and 
proceeded  in  a  high  voice  : 

"  Thou  art  to  die  !  " 

He  then  added  in  a  changed  voice,  supposed  to 
be  Desdemona's  : 

"  The  Lord  have  mercy  on  me  !  " 

Brown  next  bent  over  the  bundle  of  hay  and 
proceeded  to  smother  the  helpless  wife.  A 
strange,  convulsive  sound,  as  of  one  in  mortal 
agony,  seemed  to  issue  from  the  old  coat  and  hay. 
It  was  a  thrilling  moment. 

"  /  say,  whos  up  there  on  the  mow  ?  I  want  to 
knoiv  right  off,  now  !  " 

It  was  Mrs.  Green  ! 

She  wasn't  on  the  programme. 

"I  say,  who's  there?"  said  the  voice  in  such 
a  resolute  tone  as  caused  us  all  to  start. 

There  was  profound  silence. 

"  I  hear  some  one  up  in  that  loft ;  come  down,  I 
say,  at  once !" 

"/;«  up  here,  mother,"  said  Frank,  with  pale 
lips. 

"  Yes,  and  who  else  ?  It  wasn't  your  voice  I 
heard.  Is  tJiere  any  one  else  there?  Tell  me  before 
I  come  up  with  the  cowhide  !" 


THE   BARN    THEATRICALS. 


UP   FROM  THE  CAPE.  49 

"  Oh,  then  and  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
And  gathering  tears,  and  tremblings  of  distress." 

Yes,  it  was  a  fearful  moment,  and  to  this  day, 
after  the  lapse  of  thirty  years,  I  remember  my 
own  sensations.  Frank  was  the  first  to  descend ; 
and  the  sound  of  the  cowhide  on  his  jacket  was 
no  means  encouraging. 

One  after  another  we  dropped  to  the  floor, 
where  the  amiable  old  lady  was  applying  the  cow 
hide  in  a  most  vigorous  style,  uttering  all  kinds 
of  threats  and  exclamations  with  equal  force  and 
perseverance. 

At  last  the  skirts  began  to  make  their  appear 
ance. 

"  What !  —  Girls  !  " 

This  apparition  completely  bewildered  her. 
Boys  were  bad  enough,  but  girls  fairly  par 
alyzed  her  arm  for  a  moment,  so  that  the  cowhide 
dropped  at  her  side. 

But  Mrs.  Green  was  equal  to  the  occasion  and 
faithfully  did  her  duty. 

"Jane,  is  that  you  ?  " 

Whack!    Whack! 

"  Liddy,  is  that  you  ?  " 

Whack!    Whack! 

"  Thankful,  is  that  you  ?  " 


50  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

Whack!    Whack! 

And  in  this  uniform  manner  each  girl  as  she 
descended  the  ladder  of  the  improvised  theatre 
was  met,  and  given  an  inspiration  which  acceler 
ated  her  movements  in  the  nearest  direction 
towards  home. 

I  was  not  forgotten  in  the  general  discipline.  I 
had  all  the  entertainments  I  cared  to  receive  that 
afternoon,  and  I  have  not  been  to  any  place  of 
amusement  since.  I  did  not  even  go  to  see  the 
"  Pinafore.  ' 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  OLD  ORCHARD  AND  BURYING-GROUND. 

The  charm  of  a  small  farm  on  the  New  England 
Coast  is  usually  its  orchard.  An  old  apple  orchard 
in  Barnstable  County  and  the  Bay  towns  has  beau 
ties  that  no  city  forrester  could  produce  in  his 
imitations  of  Italian  gardens.  From  the  time  that 
the  blue-birds  arrive  and  the  red-headed  wood 
peckers  first  show  their  mottled  wings  on  the 
dead  boughs  until  the  last  pippin  falls  there  is 
pleasure  to  be  taken  in  the  orchard.  When  the 
orioles  and  thrushes  come,  and  the  arms  of  the 
trees  are  filled  with  blooms  ;  when  the  air  is  full 
of  the  songs  of  robins  and  the  passing  breezes 
with  delicious,  almost  suffocating  odors  ;  when  the 
listless  May  days  return  with  the  hum  of  bees, 
and  the  slightest  stir  in  the  air  sends  down  show 
ers  of  broken  blossoms  in  creamy  flakes  upon  the 
emerald  turf  ;  in  dewy  June  mornings  and  celestial 
mid-summer  days ;  in  early  autumn  and  late 
autumn  when  the  falling  of  the  fruit  follows  the 


52  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

falling  of  the  blossoms  and  when  at  last  the  drop 
ping  of  the  russet  leaves  ends  all,  it  seems  as 
though  something  Paradisic  remained  in  the  mossy 
old  trees,  and  one  is  reminded  that  the  same  Hand 
that  fashioned  the  immortal  gardens  gave  the 
world  such  scenes  as  these  whose  beauties  the 
resurrective  power  of  the  spring-time  eternally 
renews. 

The  orchard  at  uncle's  was  indeed  a  noble  one  ; 
it  had  grown  into  mossy  colonnades  in  the  salt  air 
of  more  than  fifty  years.  The  dead  limbs  were 
full  of  wood-pecker's  holes,  the  certain  evidences 
of  age.  Into  the  abandoned  nests  of  the  wood 
peckers  of  other  years,  the  wrens  and  blue-birds 
swarmed. 

Wherever  else  the  air  was  close  and  sultry,  the 
orchard  was  always  cool.  The  poultry  loved  the 
orchard,  and  the  peacock  announced  the  coming 
storm  from  its  bars.  The  children  of  two  genera 
tions  had  played  there,  looking  into  the  birds' 
nests  in  the  spring,  and  fighting  mimic  battles, 
like  Francis  I.  with  the  oranges,  in  the  fall. 

At  one  end  of  the  orchard  was  the  ruin  of  a 
cider  mill.  Here  in  anti-temperance  days  the 
waste  apples  were  ground.  It  was  a  ruin  worthy 
of  an  artist,  and  one  too  that  was  suggestive  of 
progress  and  moral  reform. 


UP    FROM    THE    CAPE.  53 

The  cider-makers  were  a  vanished  race,  but  one 
old  custom  associated  with  the  apple  harvest, 
Eben  steadily  maintained,  it  was  the  Apple 
Farm'. 

Eben's  "Apple  Farm's"  were  famous.  The 
neighbors  came  to  them  from  far  and  near.  That 
two  patent  paring-machines  would  have  done  as 
much  work  as  all  the  invited  guests,  did  not 
matter.  It  was  an  old-time  custom,  and  one 
against  which  nothing  evil  could  be  said. 

Eben  prided  himself  on  his  story  telling  as 
much  as  a  star  lecturer  on  his  new  fall  lecture. 
These  "apple  parins  "  gave  him  an  opportunity  to 
rehearse  the  old  stories  of  Plymouth,  the  Cape 
and  the  Islands. 

There  was  not  a  legend  of  colonial  times  with 
which  he  was  not  familiar,  whether  of  the  Cape 
towns  or  the  harbor  towns  of  Massachusetts  Bay. 
The  old  Indian  history  from  the  time  that  Ver- 
assano,  the  Florentine,  first  saw  the  ancestors  of 
Massasoit,  was  better  known  to  him  than  to  any 
writer  on  the  subject  I  have  ever  read.  He  was 
a  careful  reader  of  Drake,  and  almost  always  was 
able  to  add  to  this  historian's  narrations  some 
legend  or  story  of  equal  interest,  if  of  less  value. 

Eben  was  also  a  poet,  and  he  sometimes  read  a 


54  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

poem  at  the  "  Parin'  Bee."  Music  of  flute  and 
fiddle,  songs,  story  telling,  and  an  occasional  poem, 
made  these  simple  gatherings  delightful  occasions. 
Many  love-makings  had  begun  here,  and  several 
proposals  of  marriage  had  been  bashfully  made  by 
rustic  lovers  in  the  full  moonlight,  as  they  returned 
from  Uncle  Eben's. 

The  great  attraction  of  these  merry-makings  to 
older  persons  was  the  supper.  Aunt  Desire  was 
a  natural  cook,  and  she  put  her  pride  and  reputa 
tion  into  every  dish  and  loaf  of  bread  prepared  for 
the  "bee."  Her  brown  bread  was  heavy  with 
plums,  and  even  her  baked  sweet  apples  were 
dusted  with  sugar.  Her  roast  meats  had  all  the 
same  shade  of  brown,  and  her  "slumps,"  as  she 
called  the  enormous  pot  apple  pics,  were  so 
crusted  with  "sweetenin'"  that  they  were  as 
toothsome  as  candy. 

The  orchard  wall  was  filled  with  old  green 
mosses.  Robins  made  their  nests  among  them. 
On  the  wall  near  the  porch  was  a  row  of  house 
leeks,  and  under  it  a  long  line  of  currant  bushes. 

Beyond  the  orchard  and  the  ruined  cider  mill 
was  the  old  neighborhood  burying  ground.  The 
way  to  it  wound  around  the  orchard  -and  was 
shaded  by  cherry  trees.  From  the  burying  ground 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  55 

we  had  an  extended  view  of  Buzzard's  Bay  and 
the  Islands. 

The  grave  yard  was  nearly  two  centuries  old. 
The  pioneers,  of  the  days  of  Queen  Anne  and  the 
Georges  rested  here  under  dark  slate  stones,  with 
dreadful  effigies.  Here  slept  three  generations  of 
the  Endicotts,  and  here  the  old  preachers  of  Cal- 
vinistic  faith  and  Cromwellian  courage. 

I  used  to  go  to  the  place  with  Uncle  on  Sunday 
afternoons,  and  sit  under  the  one  solitary  tree  that 
cast  a  shadow  in  this  open  town  of  the  dead. 
Uncle  seemed  to  love  the  spot. 

I  said  to  him  one  day  while  we  were  there. 
"  Life  seems  to  me  all  a  mystery —  I  wish  I  knew 
what  is  farther  on." 

He  laid  his  hand  in  mine,  thoughtfully: 

"  If  you  would  know  what  is  farther  on,  you 
must  go  farther  on,"  he  said,  "  Life  is  a  mystery. 
We  have  come  out  of  the  past,  and  what  our 
ancestors  were  largely  determines  what  we  are 
now.  We  know  more  in  childhood  than  in 
infancy :  more  in  manhood  than  boyhood,  and  the 
horizon  of  life  grows  broader  with  age.  Evolutions 
of  the  past  have  produced  us,  and  landed  us  on 
life's  mysterious  shores.  Other  evolutions  await 
us.  We  shall  lose  this  material  covering,  and  the 


56  UP   FROM  THE    CAPE. 

soul  will  go  forth  into  the  infancy  of  a  new  life  to 
progress  and  expand  —  infinity  is  before  us. 

"The  stars  are  but  the  shining  dust 

Of  my  divine  abode, 

The  pavements  of  those  heavenly  courts 
Where  I  shall  dwell  with  God." 

"  I  wish  to  believe  as  you  do,"  said  I,  "  but  I 
can  arrive  to  no  conclusion  ;  the  great  teachers 
of  religion  tell  me  such  different  and  contradictory 
things.  I  look  around  me  and  what  do  I  see  ? 
The  Romish  church  condemns  the  Protestant 
church  as  heretical,  and  the  Protestant  world  holds 
Rome  to  be  Anti-Christ  ;  each  sends  the  other  to 
doom  and  loss.  The  Greek  church  condemns  both. 
Even  the  Protestant  church  is  full  of  sects  which 
teach  different  ways  of  salvation,  and  each  con 
demns  the  ways  of  the  others.  The  creeds  of  fifty 
churches  in  Boston  contradict  each  other.  Only 
one  can  be  right  —  good  men  teach  them  all  — 
what  am  I  to  believe  ?  Science  explains  nothing ; 
whence  we  came,  why  we  are  here,  or  whither  we 
are  going. 

"  I  wish  to  know  the  truth  and  to  practice  it. 
Your  life  and  example  make  me  wish  to  think 
rightly  and  do  rightly.  Every  young  man  at 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  57 

times  thinks  as  I  do  now,  and  is  perplexed  as  I 
am  perplexed." 

"  My  boy,"  said  uncle,  "  the  truths  that  Christ 
taught  to  the  woman  at  the  well  of  Samaria 
will  never  contradict  human  experience,  or  change. 
The  old  beliefs  are  going  and  I  do  not  regret  their 
loss,  but  these  truths  will  eternally  stand ;  every 
good  that  one  does  will  be  rewarded,  and  every 
evil  punished,  and  the  pure  spiritual  life  that  the 
gospel  teaches  is  the  best  condition  of  the  soul. 
We  have  an  evil  nature.  We  can  change  it  into  a 
good  nature,  and  over  that  change  the  gates  of 
heaven  open  and  glow.  Christ  made  that  change 
possible,  and  preached  it  as  the  need  of  the  world. 
I  believe  in  churches  —  they  are  God's  agents  — 
but  no  church  can  unchurch  any  man  who  has 
within  him  this  spiritual  life.  These  truths  will 
never  change." 

His  remarks  impressed  me,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life,  I  read  that  night  the  book  of 
John. 

There  was  one  stone  in  the  windy  old  grave-yard 
that  rose  above  the  others.  Uncle  told  me  that 
he  erected  it  at  his  own  expense  out  of  regard  to 
a  most  unselfish  and  true  man.  Under  the  name 
"  Bonny  "  were  these  curious  lines  : — 


58  UP   FROM  THE    CAPE. 

"  No  foot  of  land  do  I  possess, 
No  cottage  in  the  wilderness, 
A  poor  wayfaring  man." 

I  one  Sunday  asked  uncle  the  purport  of  this 
strange  inscription,  and  he  related  to  me  this 
beautiful  account  of  one  of  the  old  Cape  minis 
ters  : — 

A    HILLSIDE    STORY. 

"  It  is  not  so  much  what  we  do  for  ourselves  as 
what  we  do  for  others  that  brings  us  love  and 
influence. 

John  Wesley  was  a  self-forgetful  man.  He  died 
poor,  and  his  refusal  of  money  for  more  than  need 
ful  purposes  was  one  of  the  sources  of  his  marvel 
lous  influence  over  men.  At  the  age  of  forty,  when 
the  storm  of  persecution  had  spent  its  force,  and 
the  fruits  of  his  labor  began  to  appear,  he  wrote 
the  once  famous  hymn  beginning,  "  How  happy  is 
the  pilgrim's  lot."  In  this  hymn  he  gave  an  inci 
dent  of  his  own  experience  as  follows  : — 

"  No  foot  of  land  do  I  possess, 
No  cottage  in  the  wilderness, 

A  poor  wayfaring  man: 
I  lodge  awhile  in  tents  below, 
Or  gladly  wander  to  and  fro. 
Till  I  my  Canaan  gain," 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  S9 

This  was  literally  true.  When  he  and  John 
Nelson  began  to  preach  among  the  rough  seafar 
ing  population  of  Cornwall,  no  one  would  give 
them  a  meal's  victuals.  "  We  used  to  preach,  and 
then  dine  off  the  blackberry  bushes,"  he  said. 
Before  he  died  he  was  accustomed  to  preach  from 
an  hillside  pulpit  to  congregations  of  thirty  thou 
sand  people  in  Cornwall,  and  both  in  the  noble 
man's  castle  and  the  peasant's  hut  he  would  have 
been  a  welcome  and  an  honored  guest. 

The  old  travelling  preachers  in  New  England, 
and  the  then  West  in  the  times  of  Jesse  Lee,  were 
greatly  influenced  by  the  reformer's  example  in 
respect  to  their  worldly  affairs.  They  were  often 
treated  with  disrespect,  but  their  hardships  seemed 
to  heighten  their  spiritual  life,  and  to  renew  their 
confidence  in  their  Master's  assurance  of  final 
triumph  here  and  future  reward  hereafter. 

One  of  these  "circuit  riders,"  or  "saddle-bag 
preachers,"  as  they  were  sometimes  called,  was 
Father  Bonny.  He  rode  thousands  of  miles  in  a 
year,  and  he  almost  always  prefaced  a  sermon  by 
singing  the  hymn  I  have  quoted,  or  another  be 
ginning,— 


60  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

"  Come  on,  my  partners  in  distress, 
My  comrades  in  the  wilderness, 
Who  still  your  bodies  feel." 

A  rich  village  esquire,  who  was  a  man  of  gener 
ous  impulses,  but  wholly  indifferent  to  religion, 
often  entertained  Father  Bonny  on  his  annual 
visits  to  the  town. 

"The  old  man  shall  not  have  occasion  to  sing 
'No  foot  of  land  do  I  possess'  any  more,"  he  said 
one  day  to  his  wife.  "To-morrow  is  Thanksgiv 
ing,  and  I  am  going  to  give  him  something  at  last 
to  be  thankful  for.  Now  that  we  have  moved  into 
our  new  house,  I  think  I  will  give  him  the  deed 
of  the  old  homestead  and  the  ten-acre  lot.  We 
shall  not  miss  the  property.  It  belonged  to  my 
father.  I  want  it  kept  as  of  old." 

He  fulfilled  his  intention,  and  the  old  circuit 
rider  accepted  the  present  with  evident  joy  and 
gratitude. 

A  year  passed.  Again  Thanksgiving  came,  and 
Father  Bonny  was  expected  to  return  to  the  town 
and  preach.  He  arrived  at  last,  a  white-haired, 
trembling  old  man,  and  immediately  went  to  the 
stately  house  of  the  esquire,  who  the  year  before, 
had  made  him  the  thanksgiving  present. 

Almost  his  first  words  were,   "You  must  take  it 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  6 1 

back,  Squire.  It  takes  away  my  comfort  when  I 
sing  my  hymn." 

"Take  what  back?"  asked  the  astonished 
esquire. 

"The  house  and  lot,  and  then  I  can  go  to  the 
school-house  and  preach  and  sing  my  hymn  in 
peace." 

"But  I  thought  you'd  be  thankful  for  it,"  said 
the  esquire. 

"Squire,  you  will  not  understand  me  in  this 
matter,  I  am  sure.  I  wish  you  could.  But  you 
will  believe  me  when  I  say  that  I  have  things  to 
be  thankful  for  of  which  you  are  ignorant.  You 
cannot  appreciate  them,  because  you  have  not 
experienced  their  blessed  effects  upon  the  heart 
and  life.  Here  is  the  deed.  Take  it. " 

The  esquire  took  it  hesitatingly,  but  in  silence. 
As  the  deed  left  the  old  man's  hand  a  holy  calm 
came  into  his  face.  He  leaned  back  in  the  chair, 
pressed  his  hands  together  and  sang,  in  a  tremb 
ling  voice,  — 

"How  happy  is  the  pilgrim's  lot, 
How  free  from  every  anxious  thought, 
From  earthly  hope  or  fear." 

His  face  fairly  beamed  with  happiness  when  he 
came  to  the  line,  "No  foot  of  land  do  I  possess." 


62  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

"Squire,"  he  said,   "would  you  know  why  I  am  so 
happy  ?  Listen  to  the  next  verse  : 

"  There  is  a  house,  my  portion  fair, 
My  treasure  and  my  heart  are  there, 
And  my  abiding  home." 

His  voice  faltered,  but  he  presently  added,  — 

"  The  angels  beckon  me  away, 
And  Jesus  bids  me  come." 

"  Squire,  I  am  not  feeling  well.  I  am  sick.  1 
think  my  work  is  almost  done." 

So  it  was.  The  village  esquire  saw  the  truth. 
There  were  things  to  be  thankful  for  that  he  knew 
not  of.  They  were  more  than  wealth.  They  were 
the  marvellous  spiritual  perceptions,  that  are 
supernatural  gifts,  by  which  a  man  knows  that  God 
loves  him  and  he  loves  God.  It  is  not  delusion. 
This  love  of  his  God  and  the  consciousness  of 
nearness  to  him  had  moulded  the  whole  life  of  this 
self-denying  man.  They  had  made  him  a  blessing 
to  others,  and  had  lighted  the  future  with  a  bright 
ness  that  made  the  grave  a  portal  of  delight. 
Such  experiences  are  born  of  heaven  and  not  of 
earth. 

I  had  begun  to  take  more  serious  views  of  life 
under  uncle's  influence.  The  good  man  noticed 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  63 

the  change,  and  it  seemed  to  give  him  great 
pleasure.  As  I  have  said,  he  sometimes  wrote 
poems,  homely  rhymes,  yet  agreeable  renderings 
of  wholesome  truths  and  helpful  illustrations  of 
right  living.  Soon  after  the  talks  I  have  given,  I 
found  on  my  table,  one  night,  these  lines.  I  put 
them  in  my  note-book  after  reading,  and  I  have 
since  read  them  thoughtfully  many  times.  They 
have  helped  me,  plain  as  they  are. 

TO   JEFFERSON. 
I. 

When  the  false  teachers  rise,  more  subtile  than  wise, 

Who  the  faith  of  the  good  would  destroy, 
Who  would  rob  you  at  last  of  the  gold  of  the  skies, 
And,  leave  you  but  earthly  alloy, 

Believe  them  not. 
Each  evil  you  do  will  prove  sorrow  to  you, 

And  each  virtuous  action  a  joy; 
Be  true  to  yourself  and  to  others  be  true, 
And  be  true  to  your  Maker,  my  boy. 

II. 

They  may  say  the  Designer  came  from  the  design, 

That  evil  was  meant  to  enjoy, 

That  the  striving  for  wealth  and  the  babble  of  wine 
Of  the  soul  are  a  fitting  employ. 

Believe  them  not. 
For  each  evil  you  do  will  prove  sorrow  to  you, 

And  each  virtuous  action  a  joy ; 
Be  true  to  yourself  and  to  others  be  true, 
And  be  true  to  your  Maker,  my  boy. 


64  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

ill. 

The  soul  in  dead  matter  received  not  its  birth, 

Nor  the  thoughts  that  the  senses  employ  ; 
And  no  long  evolution  has  passed  o'er  the  earth 
Without  an  Evolver,  my  boy. 

Believe  them  not. 
Each  evil  you  do  will  prove  sorrow  to  you, 

And  each  virtuous  action  a  joy  ; 
Be  true  to  yourself  and  to  others  be  true, 
And  true  to  your  Maker,  my  boy. 

IV. 

The  soul  is  a  growth  in  the  good  or  the  ill, 

Each  virtue  toward  heaven  ascends  ; 
Each  noble  act  strengthens  the  wing  of  the  will, 
And  evil  to  permanence  tends. 

Believe  them  not. 
Each  evil  you  do  will  prove  sorrow  to  you, 

And  each  virtuous  action  a  joy  ; 
Be  true  to  yourself  and  to  others  be  true, 
And  true  to  your  Maker,  my  boy. 


Whate'er  they  may  say,  be  sure  the  false  way 

Will  leave  you  at  last  but  life's  scars  ; 
The  lights  and  the  flash  of  the  gilded  saloon 
Are  not  the  pure  rays  of  the  stars. 

Believe  them  not. 
Each  evil  you  do  one  day  you  will  rue, 

When  death  shall  life's  prospects  destroy; 
Then  be  true  to  yourself  and  to  others  be  true, 
And  true  to  your  Maker,  my  boy. 

VI. 

The  guide  of  the  soul  is  the  old  Bible  still, 
And  the  teacher  of  spiritual  joy, 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  ,65 

And  he  only  finds  loss,  let  him  go  where  he  will, 
Who  turns  from  its  counsels,  my  boy. 

Believe  them  not. 
For  each  evil  you  do  will  prove  sorrow  to  you, 

Whatever  your  hands  may  employ, 
Then  be  true  to  yourself  and  to  others  be  true, 
And  true  to  the  Master,  my  boy. 

UNCLE  EBEN. 
3 


CHAPTER   VI. 

AUNT   EXPRESSES   HER   OPINION    OF    SISTER 
CARRIE'S  BEAU. 

"Jeff  —  Jefferson,  sit  down  here,  under  the 
woodbine.  I  don't  like  to  say  it,  but  I  can't  help 
it ;  I  don't  like  your  sister  Carrie's  beau  at  all, 
that  Rev.  Mr.  Glass.  He  hasn't  any  blood  in 
him,  no  eyesight  to  speak  of,  and  he  talks  through 
his  nose. 

"Then,  too,  I  can't  understand  half  that  he 
says,  can  you  ?  Yesterday  he  said  to  uncle  as  I 
was  cookin',  that  '  everything  was  tendin'  to  the 
complete  and  possible  pan.' 

"'The  complete  and  possible  pan  !'  After  all 
the  trouble  I  had  had  on  the  Cape  with  the  tin- 
peddlers,  I  was  glad  to  know  that  an  ample  and 
possible  pan  was  to  be  the  outcome  of  everything 
at  last,  but  as  that  kind  of  pan  would  be  a  rather 
meagre  result  of  the  'evolutionary  processes  of 
creation/  as  he  called  it,  I  concluded  that  some 
other  kind  of  pan  must  be  meant. 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  6/ 

"There  is  one  question  that  always  puzzled  me, 
I  wonder  if  it  ever  troubled  anyone  else  ;  it  is 
why  evil  should  be  in  the  world  at  all  ?  So  I 
thought  I  would  ask  Rev.  Mr.  Glass. 

"  'Evil/  said  he,  'is  the  remnant  of  our  old  ani 
mal  nature  —  the  old  animal  in  us,  so  to  speak,  not 
yet  wholly  eliminated  in  the  rise  of  man.' 

"I  clapped  both  hands  to  my  cap-strings.  'Evil 
is  the  old  animals  left  in  us  in  the  rise  of  man ! 
You  don't  think,  Mr  Glass,  that  man  was  once  an 
animal  ? ' 

"'Certainly,  madam.' 

"  '  And  what  shall  we  be  next  ? ' 

'"Man  is  rising,  madam,'  said  he,  'rising.  The 
time  will  come  when  man  will  no  longer  talk,  but 
will  communicate  thought  by  mental  impressions  ; 
when  he  will  no  longer  eat,  but  assimilate  ;  when 
he  will  no  longer  wear  clothing,  but  will  be  sur 
rounded  by  a  radiation,  a  halo  ;  and  there  will 
come  a  time,  madam,  when  it  will  no  longer  be 
fashionable  to  wear  the  body  at  all.' 

"'That's  so,'  said  I.  'It  isn't  fashionable  to 
wear  the  body  a  great  while,  even  now.  How 
long  do  you  think  it  will  be  before  that  time  will 
come,  Mr.  Glass  ? ' 

"  He  said  something  about  '  multifarious  ages,' 


68  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

and,  law,  I  couldn't  understand  him,  no  more  than 
I  could  a  blackbird.  If  a  man's  got  anything  to 
say,  why  don't  he  say  it,  and  not  go  all  around 
Robin  Hood's  barn,  that  way  ? 

"  I  am  naturally  fond  of  music.  I  can  sing  nearly 
all  the  tunes  in  Gospel  Hymns  No.  i,  2,  and  3, 
and  the  singing  of  those  hymns  and  tunes  has 
made  me  a  better  woman. 

"One  day,  as  Mr.  Glass  stood  leaning  on  the 
banister  in  a  very  '  staturesque '  way,  as  Carrie 
calls  it  when  he  stands  on  one  foot,  with  the  toe 
of  his  other  foot  just  touching  the  floor,  one  knee 
crooked  like  one's  elbow,  he  said  to  me  with  a  far 
off  look  in  his  face. 

" '  Who  is  your  favorite  composer? ' 

"'P.  P.  Bliss,'  said  I. 

"'Bliss,  Bliss' — he  seemed  thinking  over  the 
great  names  of  the  past,  sort  of  wandering  through 
the  Middle  Ages  —  '  Bliss,  —  how  strange,  I  never 
heard  of  him." 

"  '  More  than  twelve  million  copies  of  his  books 
have  been  sold,'  said  I.  '  Sell  like  hot  cakes  in 
England,  Scotland  and  Ireland  too.  Why,  every 
child  knows  the  compositions  of  P.  P.  Bliss.' 

"  '  Extraordinary.'  He  drummed  with  his  fingers 
absently  on  the  banister.  '  Mr.  Bliss  must  be  an 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  69 

American  composer,  else  I  would  have  known  of 
him.' 

"  '  Yes,  he  is  an  American  composer,'  said  I, 
'and  my  opinion  is  that  his  hymns  and  tunes 
have  done  more  to  help  the  honest  people  of 
America  to  a  better  and  happier  life  than  any 
other  man.  I  think  that  that  man  is  the  best 
writer,  whether  it  be  of  books  or  music,  who  does 
the  most  good  in  the  world  :  don't  you,  Mr.  Glass?  " 

"  '  I  see,  Madam,  you  value  art  merely  as  an  influ 
ence  on  character  and  as  an  educator  of  the  spirit 
ual  sentiments.  A  provincial  musician,  like  Tom 
Moore,  would  satisfy  a  taste  like  that.  With  us, 
the  case  is  different.  We  value  art  for  art  alone. 
We  do  not  value  it  for  its  influence  on  character 
at  all.  We  do  not  value  it  either  for  the  light  and 
hope  it  may  bring  to  common  souls.' 

"  '  Then  what  is  the  good  of  it  ? ' 

"  '  If  you  had  had  an  artistic  training  the  question 
would  have  been  superfluous,  madam.  The  prin 
ciple  is  this  —  art  is  art.  The  great  artist  does 
not  seek  to  apply  it  to  vulgar  uses.  If  you  were 
to  attend  one  of  the  concerts  of  the  Thalia  Club 
you  would  get  my  idea  better.  Classical  art  can 
only  be  understood  by  illustration.  —  P.  P.  Bliss  : 
Bliss,  an  American  composer ;  has  had  much 


70  UP  FROM   THE    CAPE. 

influence  among  American  people.  Strange  I 
never  heard  of  him.  The  fact  is  I  do  not  read 
American  papers  ;  occasionally  look  over  the 
National,  that  is  about  the  only  American  paper 
we  Club  House  men  ever  read.' 

"  He  continued  to  drum  on  the  banister  with  the 
same  far-away  look  in  his  eyes.  I  thought  he 
must  be  in  a  sort  of  artistic  rapture  ;  spell-bound, 
so  to  speak,  but  after  he  had  gone,  I  happened  to 
glance  up  at  the  corner  bracket  to  which  his  atten 
tion  had  been  directed,  and  what  do  you  think  I  saw 
there  ?  The  statue  of  Prayin'  Samuel,  that  used 
to  be  there  ?  No,  Carrie  had  taken  that  down  and 
put  up  a  looking-glass. 

"  Now,  a  man  like  that  can't  have  any  good  sense. 
What  could  he  do  to  support  a  family  ?  That's 
the  kind  of  people  they  make  institutions  of  —  I 
mean  asylums  and  such. 

"  I  mean  to  have  a  square  talk  with  Carrie,  some 
day.  I  don't  care  if  he  was  a  Harvard  divinity 
student.  I  want  Carrie  Endicott  to  remember 
that  she  has  got  Puritan  blood  in  her  veins,  and 
when  she  marries,  I  hope  it  will  be  to  a  man,  and 
not  to  a  boy  whose  legs  are  too  airy  to  hang  his 
hat  on.  You  don't  like  such  people,  now  do  you, 
Jefferson  ? " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

I  RECEIVE  A  STRANGE  LETTER  FROM  FATHER. 

Riding,  boating,  wandering  over  the  sandy  hills, 
helping  Uncle  Eben  !  How  pleasantly  the  summer 
days  passed,  and  how  like  a  home  indeed  seemed 
the  old  house  where  my  ancestors  had  lived  and 
died  ! 

I  had  written  to  father  for  some  money  —  a 
moderate  amount  —  and  in  my  letter  I  had  spoken 
of  my  affectionate  respect  for  Uncle  Eben,  and  my 
interest  in  his  opinions  and  the  helps  and  com 
forts  of  his  simple,  democratic  way  of  life. 

Father  had  never  been  confidential  with  me. 
He  seemed  to  be  ambitious  that  I  should  be  well 
educated  and  should  go  into  good  society  —  that 
was  all.  I  never  ran  to  his  easy-chair  to  tell  him 
my  little  affairs,  to  kiss  him  good  night,  or  took 
arm-in-arm  walks  with  him.  Other  boys  did  these 
things.  I  envied  them. 

I  received  an  answer  to  my  letter  that  at  once 
made  me  happy  yet  apprehensive  of  some  impend- 


I 
72  UP   FROM    THE   CAPE. 

ing  evil.      It  kindled  a  flame   of  real  affection  in 
my  heart,  yet  left  me  ill  at  ease.     With  the  sun 
light  came  a  cloud. 
It  read  as  follows  : — 

HOTEL  WELLESLEV, 
July  2oth. 

MY  DEAR  SON:  —  And  I  can  truly  say,  dear  son.  I 
have  not  shown  you  much  sympathy  or  affection,  and  I 
have  expressed  to  you  none ;  hut  something  that  you 
have  done  almost  unconsciously  has  turned  my  thoughts 
constantly  to  you  for  the  last  three  weeks,  and  has 
brought  into  my  experience  a  strong  sense  of  love  for 
you.  It  is  the  only  happiness  I  have. 

It  was  this:  you  said  to  Carrie  that  you  wished  to 
spend  the  summer  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  me  as  little 
expense  as  possible.  How  different  is  this  from  the 
conduct  of  the  rest  of  the  family!  It  showed  me  that 
you  saw  that  I  was  overworking,  was  troubled,  and 
that  you  have  at  heart  some  real  regard  for  me. 

The  small  amount  of  money  for  which  you  now  ask, 
and  which  I  send,  shows,  also,  that  what  you  said  was 
not  mere  sentiment.  Your  expressed  regard  for  Brother 
Eben  and  his  simple  republican  home,  accords  now  with 
my  own  feelings.  Jefferson,  let  me  say  to  you  what  I 
have  not  said  in  my  letters  to  any  other  member  of  my 
family,  —  I  love  you  ! 

I  wish  to  tell  you  privately  that  I  am  greatly  troubled 
about  my  business  affairs.  At  times  my  brain  burns. 
I  get  up  at  night,  for  I  cannot  sleep  much,  and  I  walk, 
walk.  It  is  very  beautiful  here,  —  the  great  pine  groves, 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  73 

the  winding  Charles,  the  hills,  the  gardens,  and  the 
prospect  of  the  college.  But  your  mother  is  not  satis 
fied  ;  she  says  it  is  too  quiet  for  her,  socially,  and  she 
has  decided  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  season  in  Newport. 
I  shall  return  to  my  home  in  the  city.  I  have  no  heart 
to  go  to  Newport,  haunted  as  I  am  by  business  secrets 
that  I  can  share  with  no  one. 

Your  brother  in  Paris  seems  to  me  very  thoughtless 
and  extravagant.  He  has  just  asked  me  for  another 
draft  of  ^"250.  His  letter  is  filled  with  descriptions  of 
fashionable  life,  —  all  about  the  "swells"  at  Etretat, — 
and  expresses  no  regard  for  me.  How  heartless  it 
seems  beside  of  yours ! 

Jefferson,  I  have  made  some  mistakes  in  life.  I 
engaged  in  speculation  to  meet  the  expenses  of  a  very 
ambitious  family.  My  ventures  were  very  successful 
for  a  time ;  they  have  not  been  so  of  late.  I  hope  it 
will  end  well. 

I  have  not  made  friends  of  my  family ;  the  excite 
ments  and  demands  of  business  have  left  me  no  time. 
I  have  not  had  time  to  think  and  read  books,  or  to 
cultivate  a  religious  faith,  like  Eben.  I  have  not  had 
time  to  care  for  my  own  health.  The  consequence  is 
that  this  world  seems  to  me  empty  and  selfish,  and  the 
future  dark  and  hopeless.  My  health  is  breaking  at 
forty-two.  I  cannot  sleep,  as  I  have  told  you;  my 
brain  is  always  awake.  I  have  no  one  but  you  to  love 
me.  I  sometimes  wish  I  had  followed  the  traditions  of 
my  family,  and  had  lived  as  simple  but  true  a  life  as 
your  Uncle  Eben's. 

I  think  of  the  Cape  constantly;  of  the  old  house,  the 
orchard,  the  burying-ground.  If  I  were  to  die  suddenly 


74  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

I  would  wish  to  be  buried  there,  where  brother  would 
care  for  my  grave.  I  have  a  presentiment  of  coming 
misfortune.  I  can  feel  a  shadow  beginning  to  steal 
over  the  sun,  though  it  has  yet  only  touched  it.  If 
anything  happens  to  me  I  wish  you  to  go  to  live  with 
Eben.  He  will  speak  charitably  of  me  to  you ;  he  will 
understand.  You  are  my  own  true  son. 

Remember  me  always,  whatever  may  happen,  as 
Your  loving  father, 

HENRY  ENDICOTT. 

I  read  this  letter  over  twenty  times.  I  did  not 
show  it  to  Carrie.  I  withheld  it  from  Uncle  for  I 
knew  that  there  were  some  things  in  it  that  would 
cause  him  pain.  What  was  I  to  infer  from  it  ? 

Many  things,  as  my  story  will  show.  It  had 
one  immediate  effect — it  made  me  love  my  father 
more  than  any  one  in  the  world,  and  resolve  to  be 
true  to  him  and  his  interests.  It  gave  to  my  life 
two  elements  it  needed,  affection  and  a  purpose. 


CAPE    CLAM-BAKE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  CLAM -BAKE,  AND  STORY -TELLING  UNDER  THE 
TREES. 

The  clam-bakes  in  Uncle  Eben's  orchard  were 
famous  in  the  towns  of  the  Cape.  Several  church 
societies  held  their  "  annual  "  clam-bakes  there ; 
mid-summer  "  feasts  of  tabernacles  ;"  gatherings  of 
rustic  simplicity,  such  as  are  known  only  on  the 
Rhode  Island  and  Massachusetts  coast.  A  West 
ern  man,  a  Southerner,  or  a  foreigner  can  have 
little  conception  of  the  social  charm  of  these  pro 
vincial  merry-makings.  Almost  every  church 
society  on  or  near  the  Southern  New  England 
coast  has  its  annual  clam-bake. 

In  fact  many  of  the  churches  in  the  country 
and  small  towns  depend  upon  the  profits  of  this 
out-of-door  festival  to  make  up  the  deficits  in 
their  "  running  expenses  "  and  in  the  minister's 
small  salary. 

"  How  do  you  raise  your  minister's  salary  ? "  I 
once  asked  of  a  deacon  who  lived  in  one  of  the 
small  coast  towns. 


76  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

"  We  pay  him  well  ;  he's  first-class,  and  an 
amazing  smart  preacher.  I  don't  know  how  we 
would  get  along  if  it  wern't  for  the  clam-bake. 
Last  year  we  had  two." 

The  clam-bake  is  of  Indian  origin.  How  it 
became  a  kind  of  church  festival  we  cannot  tell. 
Its  customs  are  peculiar  to  itself.  The  clam-bakes 
at  the  popular  summer  resorts  have  little  in  com 
mon  with  them. 

When  the  "trustees"  of  some  rustic  church 
decide  that  they  have  a  clam-bake,  the  members 
of  the  church  and  society  feel  that  they  are  bound 
to  give  it  their  practical  support. 

A  few  days  before  the  feast  the  men  and  boys 
of  the  church  and  society  go  "  clamming  "  twice  a 
day,  at  the  low  tides.  Each  has  his  hoe  and 
basket,  and  the  bivalves  which  they  dig  are  placed 
in  a  common  pile. 

On  the  day  before  the  great  event,  a  party  of 
men  go  fishing,  giving  their  time  and  its  results  to 
the  common  cause. 

While  the  men  are  thus  preparing  for  the  rustic 
feast,  the  women  are  as  busy  making  brown-bread, 
white-bread,  "  stuffings,"  puddings  and  pies  for 
the  same  purpose.  These  preparations  are  the 
topic  of  talk  of  the  neighborhood. 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  77 

The  day  arrives,  almost  always  a  fine  one  — 
usually  in  August  "after  haying."  The  sun  comes 
up  blazing  over  the  sea,  coloring  the  thin  fogs  as 
they  roll  away,  and  lighting  up  the  half  of  each 
white  sail  that  drifts  along  the  watery  horizon. 

The  air  is  cool  and  refreshing,  after  the  last 
evening's  heat.  The  birds  sing  in  the  old  orch 
ards  ;  the  dew  quickly  disappears,  filling  the  air 
with  the  odor  of  new-mown  hay  in  its  drying. 

At  an  early  hour  the  "trustees"  prepare  on  the 
ground  in  a  grove  or  orchard  a  "bake-hole"  of 
"live  "  stones,  and  put  upon  the  stones  a  huge  pile 
of  cord-wood. 

The  wood  is  lighted ;  the  smoke  curls  into  the 
light  air,  a  great  flame  arises  and  is  fed  by  logs 
of  seasoned  wood  for  some  two  hours.  The  "live" 
stones  are  thus  heated,  and  into  this  simple  oven 
from  ten  to  forty  bushels  of  clams  and  a  great 
quantity  of  fish,  together  with  Irish  potatoes  and 
sweet  potatoes  and  green  corn  are  placed,  and  are 
baked  under  the  direction  of  a  "  manager "  who 
must  be  a  man  of  experience,  judgment  and  skill 
in  such  matters,  or  the  "  bake"  may  come  out 
"raw"  or  underdone,  and  prove  a  failure. 

The  orchards  or  groves  where  these  festivals  are 
held  are  usually  on  hill-sides  or  on  some  part  of 


78  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

the  coast  over-looking  the  sea.  They  are  leafy 
and  cool,  with  an  over-tide  of  summer  sunlight 
glimmering  through  the  boughs. 

The  tables  for  the  feast,  of  rude  boards,  are 
picturesquely' .spread  under  the  arches  of  young 
apples  or  acorns.  The  ospreys  wheel  and  scream 
in  the  air  above,  and  the  locusts  sing  in  the  tree- 
tops. 

In  the  middle  of  the  forenoon  the  gathering 
begins.  Every  vehicle  from  the  houses  for  miles 
around  comes  loaded  with  the  young,  middle-aged 
and  old;  all  in  holiday  dress  or  Sunday  clothes. 
Aged  people  who  do  not  meet  oftener  are  sure  to 
renew  their  old  friendships  at  the  clam-bake  once 
a  year,  and  relate  to  each  other  an  annual  chapter 
of  their  uneventful  lives :  their  fluctuations  of 
health,  their  rheumatisms,  when  they  heard  last 
"from  brother  Jeems's  wife,"  and  how  the  Cobb 
family  "out  west,"  are  getting  along. 

The  women  bring  contributions  of  new  made 
butter,  and  dressings,  pies  and  cake. 

As  soon  as  the  bake-hole  is  "open,"  the  feast  is 
hurriedly  served,  while  the  clams  and  fish  are 
"hot."  The  young  people  are  in  high  spirits;  it 
is  a  merry,  chatty  scene ;  simple  and  innocent. 
No  poet  has  sung  it  ;  no  painter  attempted  to 
paint  it. 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  7 9 

After  the  dinner  '  remarks  '  are  made  by  the 
pastor,  and  by  '  invited  guests '  who  are  generally 
from  the  city  and  pay  for  their  entertainment  in 
contributions  of  cheap  jokes  and  small  talk. 
Songs  are  sung,  and  the  rest  of  the  day  is  devoted 
to  recreations,  swinging,  croquet,  boating,  confiden 
tial  talks,  and  more  singing. 

Aunt  Desire  was  the  soul  of  benevolence  at 
these  rural  festivals.  Her  rooms  were  open  to 
the  old  and  young  ;  she  supplied  from  her  own 
cupboards  any  articles  for  which  provision  had  not 
been  made,  and  usually  attended  to  the  cooking  of 
the  dressings,  a  matter  that  required  especial  care. 

After  the  dinner  was  over  the  children  would 
gather  around  her  in  some  quiet  place  under  the 
trees,  and  ask  her  for  stories  of  old  Colony  times. 
These  were  not  only  interesting  in  themselves, 
but  she  usually  added  somewhat  to  their  charm 
by  giving  cookies  to  all  her  appreciative  hearers ; 
and  as  aunt's  cookies  were  unequalled  she  never 
lacked  an  audience. 

One  of  the  small  societies  of  one  of  the  Plymouth 
county  towns  had  arranged  with  Uncle  Eben  for 
a  clam-bake  and  picnic  in  the  orchard.  The 
church  was  poor,  and  Aunt  Desire  took  an  especial 
interest  in  this  gathering  for  that  reason.  She 


80  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

invited  the  Rev.  Mr.  Glass  to  remain  a  few  days 
longer  than  he  had  intended,  so  as  to  "enjoy  the 
bake  "  and  address  the  children.  She  remarked  to 
me  that  she  did  not  think  that  what  my  clerical 
friend  would  say  would  be  of  .much  interest  or 
value,  but  that  it  "  would  be  handy  to  have  a  Bos 
ton  minister  on  the  grounds,  just  for  the  name  of 
it,  you  know." 

Aunt  made  preparation  for  the  gathering  by 
baking  "three  stone  jars  full  of  cookies,"  as  she 
expressed  the  result  of  her  labors  over  the  oven, 
one  sultry  August  morning. 

"And  now,  Carrie,"  she  said  to  my  sister,  "I 
want  you  to  think  out  a  Boston  story  to  tell  to  the 
children,  a  real  pretty  one,  something  that  will  do 
us  credit." 

Mr.  Glass  had  never  seen  one  of  these  shore 
dinners.  He  seemed  to  take  much  interest  in  it, 
and  remarked  to  me,  that  this  was  "  something 
extraordinary,  really  remarkable."  He  even 
helped  bring  wood  for  feeding  the  fire  of  the  stone 
oven,  until  a  snake  chanced  to  run  out  of  the  wood 
pile,  "a  wiggling  reptile,  that  might  be  poisonous," 
that  caused  him  to  make  a  sudden  retreat,  and 
look  upon  that  part  of  the  field  of  operations  with 
a  disturbed  and  hesitating  countenance. 


UP   FROM   THE  CAPE.  8 1 

Aunt  had  her  usual  audience  after  dinner.  More, 
not  only  the  children  gathered  around  her,  and 
sung  their  songs,  but  many  old  people,  who  sung' 
several  camp-meeting  hymns,  and  talked  of  the 
manners  and  customs  of  other  days. 

A    STARTLED    CHURCH    CHOIR. 

"A  story?"  said  Aunt  Desire.  "Well,  there's 
nothin'  disobleegin'  about  me.  I  am  always  ready 
to  talk  when  any  wants  to  hear  me.  Some  of 
my  friends  do  not  always  want  to  hear  me  :  hus 
band  for  instance.  Have  some  cookies  f 

"  Well,  I  think  of  one  that  will  perhaps  please 
the  young  people  and  old  people  too.  It  happened 
long  ago,  nigh  upon  fifty  years. 

"  The  old  Orthodox  society  in  the  town  where  I 
lived  when  I  was  a  girl,  had  much  trouble  about 
their  singin'.  The  young  folks  wanted  a  choir, 
and  the  old  folks  didn't,  and  it  made  a  sort  of  divi 
sion.  Those  who  favored  singin'  by  the  congrega 
tion  quoted  the  passage  '  Let  all  the  people  praise 
thee  ;'  and  those  who  wanted  a  choir  answered 
with,  '  Let  all  things  be  done  decently  and  in 
order.'  Haveacookeef 

"At  last  the  deacons  consented  to  have  a  choir. 
Now  I  have  a  powerful  voice,  naturally,  though  I 


82  UP  FROM    THE  CAPE. 

can't  sing  as  I  used  to,  and  I'd  been  to  the  singin* 
school,  and  knew  the  notes.  Miss  Flinn  agreed 
to  sing  alto,  the  schoolmaster,  tenor,  and  Timothy 
Toogood,  base,  and  I  was  chosen  to  be  the 
soprano,  which  made  me  the  head  singer  of  all. 

"  We  met  to  practice  and  we  astonished  our 
selves  by  the  music  we  made.  I  laid  awake  nights 
thinkin'  how  we  would  astonish  other  people  on 
Sunday. 

"And  we  did. 

"  We  concluded  to  open  the  services  by  a  volun 
tary,  that  is,  a  piece  not  in  the  old  hymn-book, 
a  sort  of  free  offerin',  as  it  were.  It  was  a  beauti 
ful  piece  we  selected ;  I  remember  it  now.  It  was 
what  I  call  poetry. 

"Repeat  it  ?     Well,  I  will.     Have  some  cookies? 

"In  the  tempest  of  life,  when  the  wave  and  the  gale 
Are  around  and  above,  if  thy  footing  should  fail, 
If  thine  eye  should  grow  dim,  and  thy  caution  depart 
'  Look  aloft ! '  and  be  firm,  and  be  fearless  of  heart. 

"  If  the  friend  who  embraced  in  prosperity's  glow, 
With  a  smile  for  each  joy  and  a  tear  for  each  woe, 
Should  betray  thee  when  sorrows  like  clouds  are  arrayed, 

'  Look  aloft ! '  to  the  friendship  which  never  shall  fade. 

"Should  the  visions  which  hope  spreads  in  light  to  thine  eye 
Like  the  tints  of  the  rainbow,  but  brighten  to  fly, 
Then  turn,  and  through  tears  of  repentant  regret, 
'  Look  aloft ! '  to  the  Sun  that  is  never  to  set. 


UP  FROM  THE  CAPE.  83 

"  Should  they  who  are  dearest,  the  son  of  thy  heart, 

The  wife  of  thy  bosom,  in  sorrow  depart, 
'  Look  aloft,'  from  the  darkness  and  dust  of  the  tomb, 

To  that  soil  where  affection  is  ever  in  bloom." 

"There,  I  call  that  poetry,  don't  you?  None  of 
your  'Pull  for  the  Shore'  verses,  although  that 
piece  is  all  well  enough  in  its  place,  but  genuine 
sentiment. 

"It  was  a  pleasant  Sabbath  and  the  church  was 
crowded.  I  felt  a  kind  of  trepidation  come  over 
me  as  I  looked  from  the  gallery  on  the  heads 
bobbin'  below,  and  my  heart  was  all  in  a  flutter. 
Every  stroke  of  the  bell  smote  me  like  a  knell  of 
doom,  and,  as  the  people  kept  pilin'  into  the 
church  and  castin'  sly  looks  towards  the  gallery, 
I  wished  a  hundred  times,  like  the  poet,  for  a 
lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness.  At  length  the 
bell  ceased  tolling,  and  the  people  were  all  ears. 
I  got  up  nervously,  my  limbs  trembling  all  over, 
and  my  mouth  as  dry  as  a  chip.  We  formed  a 
line,  the  bass  viol  banged  and  squeaked,  and  at 
last  all  was  ready.  I  gasped  once  or  twice,  then 
I  started  off  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  in  a  manner 
that  was  astonishing.  I  made  the  arches  ring.  I 
begun  to  feel  as  proud  as  a  prima  donna.  A  part 
of  the  piece  was  very  high  and  afforded  me  an 
opportunity  to  display  my  strength  of  voice. 


84  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

"Just  as  I  was  singin'  the  'Look  Aloft'  in  the 
second  verse,  who  should  come  hobbling  into  the 
gallery  but  old  Dame  Rider,  followed  by  her 
yellow  dog.  I  hate  dogs  in  general,  and  hated 
this  one  in  particular,  for  he  always  seemed  to 
owe  me  a  grudge. 

"  A  pitcher  partly  filled  with  water,  stood  on  the 
floor  not  far  from  my  feet.  The  dog  trotted  for 
ward,  casting  an  evil  eye  at  me,  and  jammed  his 
head  into  the  pitcher.  I  sang  '  Look  aloft  '  as 
loud  as  ever  I  could,  and  then  looked  at  the  dog. 

"  He  had  put  his  head  into  the  pitcher  so  far  that 
he  couldn't  get  it  out,  and  was  backing  towards 
me  with  the  pitcher  on  his  head,  bowing  in  a  way 
that  appeared  very  polite.  The  rest  of  the  choir 
tittered,  but  the  thought  of  what  might  happen 
if  the  dog  should  break  the  pitcher  or  slip  it  off, 
filled  me  with  terror. 

"'  Look  aloft,'  "  I  screamed. 

"I  didn't  look  aloft  myself,  but  straight  at  the 
dog,  which  was  wiggling,  howling  and  yelping 
close  to  my  heels,  and  pushin'  against  me  with  the 
pitcher  snugly  fitted  to  his  head  and  neck. 

"  I  kicked  him  spitefully,  then  sung  '  Look 
aloft '  again,  in  a  terrific  manner,  myself  looking 
at  the  dog.  He  moved  off  a  little  and  I  ventured 


LOOK   ALOFT. 


UP   FROM  THE   CAPE.  85 

a  glance  at  the  congregation.  They  were  indeed 
looking  aloft,  and  at  your  humble  servant  most 
enquiringly. 

"A  happy  thought  struck  me.  I  would  let  them 
know  the  cause  of  my  agitation.  So  I  sung  '  Look 
aloft,'  louder  than  ever.  They  all  looked,  and  I 
added  in  a  twinkling: 

"  'Get  out,  you  dog.' 

"  I  put  out  my  foot  and  gave  him  a  push,  and 
what  do  you  think  that  dog  did  ?  He  backed 
right  over  the  railing  of  the  gallery,  and  tumbled, 
howling  and  yelping,  into  old  Mrs.  Toogood's  pew 
below.  Mrs.  Toogood  was  looking  aloft  when  the 
accident  happened. 

"  Everybody  was  grinning  in  a  most  improper 
manner.  I  finished  the  piece,  and  we  didn't  sing 
any  more  that  day.  We  started  for  home  as  soon 
as  the  benediction  was  pronounced,  and  didn't 
dare  to  look  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left,  nor 
even  aloft. 

"  But  next  Sunday  we  opened  with  '  Haddam,' 
and  we  had  'urn  for  sure.  Everybody  was  delight 
ed,  and  our  choir  went  on  without  any  quarrel  for 
more  than  three  months.  Was  there  ever  heard 
anything  equal  to  that  ?  Have  sonic  more  cookies, 
all  of  yon,  noiv  do.  Don't  be  sparin ',  plenty  more 
where  these  came  from. 


86  UP   FROM   THE   CAPE. 

Now,  children,  my  niece  here,  Carrie  Endicott, 
will  tell  you  a  Boston  story.  Sit  down,  Mr.  Glass. 
No,  there  ain't  no  horrid  snakes  in  this  part  of  the 
orchard,  and  if  they  were,  they're  as  harmless  as 
robins. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CARRIE'S  "BOSTON"  STORY  —  "DOT." 

I  have  a  story  of  a  little  musician,  friends.  We 
have  lovely  music  in  Boston  :  I  will  try  to  picture 
it  to  you. 

The  church  was  vast  and  dim.  The  air  was 
fragrant  with  pine  boughs,  and  over  the  golden 
cross  of  the  chancel  hung  heavy  wreaths  of  box 
and  fir.  A  solitary  light  shone  in  front  of  the 
organ. 

Little  feet  were  heard  on  the  stairs  leading  to 
the  orchestra.  A  door  in  the  organ-case  opened 
quietly  and  was  about  to  close,  when  a  voice  was 
heard  : 

"  Is  that  you,  Dot  ?  "  asked  the  organist. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  makes  you  come  so  early  ?  It  is  nearly 
an  hour  before  the  rehearsal  begins.  I  should 
think  the  little  bellows-room  would  be  a  rather 
lonely  place  to  wait  an  hour." 

"I  always  come  early,"  said  the  boy,  timidly. 

"  So  I  have  noticed.     Why  ?  " 


88  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

"Mother  thinks  it  best." 

"  Come  out  here,  and  let  me  talk  with  you.  I 
have  sung  in  the  choir  nearly  a  year,  and  have 
hardly  had  a  glimpse  of  you  yet.  Don't  be  bash 
ful  !  Why,  all  the  music  would  stop  if  it  were  not 
for  you,  Dot.  Our  grandest  Christmas  anthem 
would  break  into  confusion  if  you  were  to  cease  to 
bloiv.  Come  here.  I  have  just  arrived  in  the 
city,  and  have  come  to  the  church  to  wait  for  the 
hour  of  rehearsal.  I  want  company.  Come,  Dot." 

The  little  side  door  of  the  organ  moved  :  a 
shadow  crept  along  in  the  dim  light  towards  the 
genial-hearted  tenor. 

"Do  you  like  music,  Dot  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Is  that  what  makes  you  come  so  long  before 
the  rest  ? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

"I  have  a  reason  —  mother  would  not  like  to 
have  me  speak  of  it." 

"  Do  you  sing  ?  " 

"  Yes,  at  home." 

"What  do  you  sing?" 

"The  parts  I  hear  you  sing." 

"  Tenor,  then  ?" 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  89 

"Yes." 

"  Will  you  sing  for  me?  " 

"  Now  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  will  sing  '  Hark,  what  mean  ? '  ' 

"Rossini  —  an  adaptation  from  Cujns  Animam." 

The  boy  did  not  understand. 

"Well,"  said  the  tenor,  "I  beat  time  —  now, 
Dot." 

A  flute-like  voice  floated  out  into  the  empty  edi 
fice,  silvery,  pure,  rising  and  falling  through  all 
the  melodious  measures  of  that  almost  seraphic 
melody.  The  tenor  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  stood 
like  one  entranced.  The  voice  fell  in  wavy 
cadences:  "  Heavenly  Hallelujahs  rise."  Then  it 
rose,  clear  as  a  skylark,  with  the  soul  of  inspiration 

in  it  : 

"  Hear  them  tell  that  sacred  story, 
Hear  them  chant  — 

The  tenor,  with  a  nervous  motion,  turned  on  the 
gas-light. 

The  boy  seemed  affrighted,  and  shrank  away 
towards  the  little  door  that  led  to  the  bellows- 
room. 

"Boy!" 

"Sir?" 


90  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

"There  is  a  fortune  in  that  voice  of  yours." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"  What  makes  you  hide  behind  that  bench  ?" 

"  You  won't  tell,  sir  ?" 

"  No :  I  will  befriend  any  boy  with  a  voice  like 
that" 

The  boy  approached  the  singer  and  stood 
beside  him. 

He  said  not  a  word,  but  only  looked  toward  his 
feet. 

The  tenor's  eyes  followed  the  boy's. 

He  saw  it  all,  but  he  only  said  tenderly : 

"Dot!" 

A  chancel  door  opened.  An  acolyte  came  in, 
bearing  a  long  gas-lighter :  he  touched  the  chan 
deliers  and  they  burst  into  flame.  The  cross 
glimmered  upon  the  wall  under  the  Christmas 
wreaths  ;  the  alabaster  font  revealed  its  beautiful 
decorations  of  calla  lilies  and  smilax  ;  the  organ 
glowed  with  its  tall  pipes,  and  carvings,  and 
cherubs. 

The  first  flash  of  light  in  the  chancel  found  Dot 
hidden  in  his  little  room,  with  the  door  fast  closed 
behind  him. 

What  a  strange  place  it  was  !  A  dim  light  fell 
through  the  open  carvings  of  the  organ  case. 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  91 

Great  wooden  pipes  towered  aloft,  with  black 
mouths  —  like  dragons.  Far,  far  above  in  the 
arch  was  a  cherub,  without  a  body  —  a  golden  face 
with  purple  wings.  Dot  had  looked  at  it  for 
hours,  and  wondered. 

He  sat  looking  at  it  to-night  with  a  sorrowful 
face.  There  were  other  footsteps  in  the  church, 
sounds  of  light,  happy  voices. 

Presently  the  bell  tinkled.  The  organist  was 
on  his  bench.  Dot  grasped  the  great  wooden 
handle ;  it  moved  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  and 
then  the  tall  wooden  pipes  with  the  dragon  mouths 
began  to  thunder  around  him.  Then  the  chorus 
burst  into  a  glorious  strain,  which  Dot  the  year 
before  had  heard  the  organist  say  was  the  "  Mid 
night  Mass  of  the  Middle  Ages  :  " 

"  Adeste  fideles 
Laeti  triumphantes, 

Venite, 

Venite, 

In  Bethlehem!" 

The  great  pipes  close  at  hand  cease  to  thunder. 
The  music  seemed  to  run  far  away  into  distance, 
low,  sweet  and  shadowy.  There  were  sympa 
thetic  solos  and  tremulous  chords.  Then  the  tem 
pest  seemed  to  come  back  again,  and  the  luminous 


92  UP   FROM  THE   CAPE. 

arch    over  the  organ    sent  back    into  .the   empty 
church  the  jubilant  chorus  : 

"  Venite  adoremus, 

Venite  adoremus, 

Venite  adoremus, 

Dominum." 

After  the  anthem  there  were  solos.  The  tenor 
sang  one  of  them,  and  Dot  tried  to  listen  to  it  as 
he  moved  the  handle  up  and  down.  How  sweet 
it  sounded  to  Dot's  ears  !  It  came  from  a  friendly 
heart— except  his  mother's  it  was  the  only  voice 
that  had  ever  spoken  a  word  of  sympathy  or  praise 
to  the  poor  bellows-boy. 

The  singers  rested,  laughed  and  talked.  Dot 
listened  as  usual  in  his  narrow  room. 

"I  came  to  the  church  directly  from  the  train," 
said  the  tenor,  "and  amused  myself  for  a  time 
with  Dot.  A  wonderful  voice  that  boy  has." 

"Dot?  "  said  the  precentor. 

"Yes  ;  the  boy  that  blows  the  organ." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  had  forgotten.  I  seldom  see  him," 
said  the  precentor.  "  Now  I  think  of  it,  the  sex 
ton  told  me  some  weeks  ago  that  I  must  get  a  new 
organ-boy  another  year;  he  says  this  one — Dot 
you  call  him?  —  comes  to  the  church  through  back 
alleys,  and  goes  to  the  bellows-room  as  soon  as 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  •    93 

the  church  is  open  and  hides  there  until  service 
time,  and  that  his  clothes  are  not  decent  to  be 
seen  in  a  church  on  Sunday.  Next  Sunday  begins 
the  year — I  must  see  to  the  matter." 

"He  does  his  work  well  ?  "  asked  the  alto,  with 
a  touch  of  sympathy  in  her  voice. 

"Yes." 

"Would  it  not  be  better  to  get  him  some  new 
clothes,  than  to  dismiss  him  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No.  Charity  is  charity,  and  business  is  busi 
ness.  Everything  must  be  first  class  here.  We 
cannot  have  ragamuffins  creeping  into  the  church 
to  do  church  work.  Of  course,  I  should  be  glad 
to  have  the  boy  supplied  with  clothes.  That  is 
another  thing.  But  we  must  have  a  different  per 
son  in  the  bellows -box.  The  sexton's  son  is 
bright,  dresses  well,  and  I  have  no  doubt  would  be 
glad  of  the  place  —  Now  we  will  sing  the  anthem, 
'  Good-will  to  men.'  " 

The  choir  and  chorus  arose.  The  organist 
tinkled  the  bell,  and  bent  down  on  the  pedals  and 
keys.  There  was  a  ripple  of  music,  a  succession 
of  short  sounds,  and  silence. 

The  organist  touched  the  knob  at  the  side  of 
the  key-board,  and  again  the  bell  tinkled.  His 
white  hands  ran  over  the  keys,  but  there  issued 
no  sound. 


94  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

He  moved  nervously  from  the  bench,  and 
opened  the  little  door. 

"  Dot  ? " 

No  answer. 

"The  boy  is  sick  or  faint." 

The  tenor  stepped  into  the  room  and  brought 
out  a  limp  figure. 

"Are  you  sick,  Dot?" 

"Yes,  sir;  what  will  become  of  mother?" 

"  He  heard  what  you  said  about  dismissing 
him,"  said  the  alto  to  the  precentor. 

"  Yes,  but  the  sexton  was  right.  Look  at  his 
shoes — why,  his  toes  are  sticking  through  them." 

"And  this  bitter  weather!"  said  the  alto,  feel 
ingly. 

"  Can  you  blow,  Dot  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  it  is  all  dark,  sir.  I  can't  see,  sir.  I 
can't  but  just  stand  up,  sir.  You  won't  dimiss  me, 
sir,  mother  is  lame  and  poor,  sir  —  paralyzed,  sir  ; 
that's  what  they  call  it  —  can't  use  but  one  hand, 
sir." 

"This  ends  the  rehearsal,"  said  the  precentor  in 
an  impatient  way.  "  Dot,  you  needn't  come  to 
morrow,  nor  till  I  send  for  you.  Here's  a  dollar, 
Dot  —  charity  —  Christmas  present." 

One  by  one  the  singers  went  out,  the  precentor 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  95 

bidding  the  sexton  have  a  care  that  Dot  was  sent 
home. 

The  alto  and  4the  tenor  lingered.  Dot  was 
recovering. 

"  I  shall  not  hear  the  music  to-morrow.  I  do 
love  it  so." 

"  You  poor  child,  you  shall  have  your  Christmas 
music  to-morrow,  and  the  best  the  city  affords. 
Do  you  know  where  Music  Hall  is,  Dot  ?" 

"Yes,  lady." 

"There   is   to  be  an    oratorio   there   to-morrow 

• 

evening —  The  Messiah.  It  is  the  grandest  ever 
composed,  and  no  singing  in  America  is  equal  to 
it.  There  is  one  chorus  called  the  '  Hallelujah 
Chorus'  —  it  is  wonderful:  the  man  who  composed 
it  thought  he  heard  the  angels  singing  and  saw 
the  Lord  of  Heaven,  when  he  was  at  work  upon 
it  ;  and  Jic  is  to  be  the  first  tenor  singer  —  and  / 
am  to  sing  the  altos  —  wouldn't  you  like  to  go, 
Dot  ? " 

"  Yes,  lady.  Is  the  man  who  composed  it  to  be 
the  tenor  singer  —  the  one  who  heard  the  angels 
singing,  and  thought  he  saw  the  Lord  ?  " 

"  No,  Dot ;  he  is  to  be  the  tenor  singer." 

"/,  Dot,"  said  the  tenor. 

"  I  have  a  ticket  for  the  upper  gallery,  which  I 


96  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

will  give  him,"  said  the  alto.  "A  friend  of  mine 
bought  it,  but  I  gave  her  a  seat  on  the  floor,  and 
kept  this  for  —  well,  for  Dot."  , 

The  tenor  talked  low  with  the  lady. 

"  Here  is  a  Christmas  present,  Dot.  "  He 
handed  Dot  a  bill. 

"And  here  is  one  for  your  mother,"  said  the 
alto,  giving  Dot  a  little  roll  of  money. 

Dot  was  better  now.  He  looked  bewildered  at 
his  new  fortune. 

"Thank  you,  lady.  Thank  you,  s^ir.  Are  you 
able  ?  "  The  alto  laughed. 

"  Yes,  Dot.  I  am  to  receive  a  hundred  dollars 
for  singing  to-morrow  evening.  I  shall  try  to 
think  of  you,  Dot,  when  I  am  rendering  one  of  the 
passages  —  perhaps  it  will  give  me  inspiration, 
I  shall  see  you,  Dot  —  under  the  statue  of 
Apollo.  " 

The  sexton  was  turning  off  the  lights  in  the 
chancel.  He  called  Dot.  The  church  grew  dim 
mer  and  dimmer,  and  the  great  organ  faded  away  in 
the  darkness.  In  the  vanishing  lights  the  alto 
and  tenor  went  out  of  the  church,  leaving  Dot 
with  the  sexton. 

It  was  Sabbath  evening  —  Christmas. 

Lights  glimmered  thickly  among  the  snowy  trees 


UP    FROM    THE    CAPE.  97 

on  the    Common  ;  beautiful  coaches  were  rolling 
through  the  crowded  streets. 

Dot  entered  Music  Hall  timidly  by  a  long  pass 
age,  through  which  bright,  happy  faces  were  pass 
ing,  silks  rustling,  aged  people  moving  sedately 
and  slowly,  and  into  which  the  crowds  on  the 
street  seemed  surging  like  a  tide.  Faces  were 
too  eager  with  expectation  to  notice  him  or  his 
feet.  At  last  he  passed  a  sharp  ;,ngle  in  the  long 
passage,  and  the  great  organ  under  a  thousand 
gas-jets,  burst  upon  his  view.  An  usher  at  one  of 
the  many  lower  doors  looked  at  his  ticket  doubt 
fully  :  - 

"  Second  gallery  —  back." 

Dot  followed  the  trailing  silks  up  the  broad 
flights  of  stairs,  reached  the  top,  and  asked  another 
usher  to  show  him  his  seat.  The  young  man 
whom  Dot  addressed  had  that  innate  refinement 
of  feeling  that  marks  a  true  Boston  gentleman. 
He  gave  Dot  a  smile,  as  much  as  to  say  "  I  am 
glad  you  can  enjoy  all  this  happiness  with  the 
rest,"  and  said  :  — 

"  Follow  me." 

His  manner  was  so  kind  that  Dot  thought  he 
would  like  to  speak  to  him  again.  He  remem 
bered  what  the  alto  had  said  about  the  statue  of 


98  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

Apollo,  and  as  the  usher  gave  him  back  his  check 
and  pointed  to  the  number  on  the  check  and  the 
seat,  Dot  said  : 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me,  sir,  which  is  the 
statue  of  Apollo  ?  " 

The  usher  glanced  at  the  busts  and  statues 
along  the  wall.  He  spoke  kindly  : 

"  That  is  the  Apollo  Belvidere." 

Dot  thought  that  a  pretty  name  ;  it  did  not  con 
vey  to  his  mind  any  association  of  the  Vatican 
palace,  but  he  knew  that  some  beautiful  mystery 
was  connected  with  it. 

And  now  Dot  gazes  in  amazement  on  the  scene 
before  him.  In  the  blaze  of  light  the  great  organ 
rises  resplendently,  sixty  feet  in  height,  its  impos 
ing  fa£ade  hiding  from  view  its  six  thousand  pipes. 
People  are  hurrying  into  the  hall,  flitting  to  and 
fro  ;  young  ladies  in  black  silks  and  velvets  and 
satins;  old  men  — where  were  so  many  men  with 
white  hair  ever  seen  before  ?  stately  men  with 
thin  faces,  bald  —  teachers,  college  professors. 
Tiers  of  seats  in  the  form  of  half  a  pyramid  rise  at 
either  end  of  the  organ.  These  are  filling  with 
the  chorus  —  sopranos  and  altos  in  black  dresses, 
and  white  shawls,  tenors  and  basses  in  black  coats, 
white  neck-ties  and  kids.  In  front,  between  the 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  99 

great  chorus,  rises  a  dark  statue,  and  around  this 
musicians  are  gathering  —  players  on  violins, 
violas,  violoncellos,  contra  basses,  flutes,  oboes, 
bassoons,  trumpets,  trombones,  horns  ;  the  pyra 
midal  seats  fill ;  the  hall  overflows  ;  the  doors  are 
full,  the  galleries.  The  instruments  tune.  A 
dark-haired  man  steps  upon  the  conductor's  stand; 
he  raises  his  baton  ;  there  is  a  hush,  then  half  a 
hundred  instruments  pour  forth  the  symphony. 
Dot  listens.  He  has  never  heard  such  music 
before  ;  he  did  not  know  that  anything  like  it  was 
ever  heard  on  earth.  It  grows  sweeter  and 
sweeter :  — 

"  Comfort  ye." 

Did  an  angel  speak  ?  The  instruments  are 
sweeter  now  :  — 

"  Comfort  ye  my  people." 

Did  that  voice  come  from  the  air  ? 

Dot  listens  and  wonders  if  this  is  earth  :  — 

"  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye  my  people,  saith  your  God,  saith 
your  God." 

Dot  sees  a  tall  man  standing  alone  —  in  front 
of  the  musicians  —  is  it  he  that  is  singing  ?  Dot 
gazes  upon  his  face  with  wide  eyes,  It  is  he — 


100  UP    FROM    THE    CAPE. 

and  Jie  is  the  tenor  who  had  befriended  him  the 
night  before. 

What  music  followed  when  the  chorus  arose 
and  sang  :  — 

'•  Every  valley  shall  be  exalted  !  " 

Dot  hears  the  grand  music  sweep  on,  and  he 
feels,  as  all  feel,  that  the  glorious  Messiah  is  about 
to  appear.  He  sees  a  lady  in  white  satin  and 
flashing  jewels  step  forward  :  he  hears  a  ripple  of 
applause,  and  a  voice  full  of  strength  and  feeling 
sings : 

"Oh  thou  that  tellest  good  tidings  to  Zion,  O  thou  that 
tellest  good  tidings  to  JerusalL'm,  say  unto  the  cities  of 
Judah,  Behold  your  God  !  " 

Dot  knows  that  voice.  Will  indeed  she  lift  her 
eyes  to  him  ? 

No,  she  does  not.  She  sits  down,  the  hall  ringing 
with  applause.  She  rises,  bows,  but  she  does  not 
look  towards  the  statue  of  Apollo,  near  which 
Dot  is  sitting. 

Dot  hears  dreamy  music  now,  more  enchanting 
than  any  before  it.  The  great  audience  do  not  stir, 
or  move  a  fan,  or  raise  a  glass.  It  grows  more 
ethereal ;  it  seems  now  but  a  wavy  motion  in  the 
air.  He  hears  a  lady  near  whisper :  — 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  IOI 

"The  pastoral  symphony." 

The  alto  has  risen  again.  She  stands  out  from 
the  great  chorus — what  a  beautiful  figure!  The 
dark-haired  man  lifts  his  baton  :  the  lady  turns  her 
face  toward  the  upper  gallery.  Her  eyes  wander 
for  a  moment  ;  they  rest  on  —  Dot  : 

He  shall  feed  his  flock  like  a  shepherd,  and  he  shall  gather 
the  lambs  with  his  arm,  and  carry  them  in  his  bosom,  and 
gently  lead  those  that  are  with  young. 

There  was  no  applause  now.  Tears  stood  in  the 
alto's  eyes  —  tears  stood  in  the  eyes  of  every  one. 
There  was  a  deep  hush,  and  tears,  and  in  the 
silence  the  alto  stood  looking  steadily  at  —  Dot. 

There  was  a  rustle  in  the  hall  —  it  grew.  The 
silence  was  followed  by  a  commotion  that  seemed 
to  rock  the  hall.  The  applause  gathered  force 
like  a  tempest. 

Then  the  beautiful  lady  looked  towards  Dot, 
and  sang  again  the  same  wonderful  air,  and  all  the 
hall  grew  still,  and  people's  eyes  were  wet  again. 

The  Hallelujah  Chorus  with  its  grand  fugues 
was  sung,  the  people  rising  and  standing  with 
bowed  heads  during  the  majestic  outpouring  of 
praise. 

It  is  ended  now  —  faded  and  gone.  The  great 
organ  stands  silent  in  the  dark  hall  ;  the  coaches 


102  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

have  rolled  away,  the  clocks  are  striking  midnight. 

"  I  have  come  to  congratulate  you  before  retir 
ing,"  said  our  tenor  to  the  alto,  as  he  stepped 
into  the  parlor  of  the  Revere  House;  "  To-night 
has  been  the  triumph  of  your  life.  Nothing  so 
moved  the  audience  as  "  He  sJiallfeed  his  flock  like 
a  shepherd.  " 

"  Do  you  know  to  what  I  owed  the  feeling  that 
so  inspired  me  in  that  air  ?" 

"No." 

"It  was  poor  little  Dot  in  the  gallery.  You 
teach  music,  do  you  not  ? " 

"Yes." 

"You  are  about  to  open  a  school  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Give  Dot  a  place  as  office  boy  —  errand  boy — • 
something.  It  will  lift  a  weight  from  my  heart. 

"  I  had  thought  of  it.    He  has  a  beautiful  voice." 

"I  might  get  him  a  place  in  a  choir." 

Fifteen  years  have  passed.  The  old  Handel  and 
Haydn  Society  have  sung  The  Messiah  fifty,  per 
haps  sixty  times.  The  snows  of  December  are 
again  on  the  hills.  The  grand  oratorio  is  again 
rehearsing  for  the  Sabbath  evening  before  Christ 
mas. 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  103 

A  new  tenor  is  to  sing  on  the  occasion  —  he  was 
born  in  Boston,  has  studied  in  Milan,  and  has 
achieved  great  triumphs  as  an  interpreter  of  sacred 
music  in  London  and  Berlin. 

The  old  hall  is  filled  again.  The  symphony  has 
begun  its  dulcet  enchantment  ;  the  Tenor,  with  a 
face  luminous  and  spiritual,  arises,  and  with  his 
first  notes  thrills  the  audience  and  holds  it  as  by  a 
spell  :  — 

"  Comfort  ye." 

He  thought  of  the  time  when  he  first  heard 
those  words.  He  thought  of  the  hearts  whose 
kindness  had  made  him  a  singer.  Where  were 
they  ?  Their  voices  had  vanished  from  the  choirs 
of  earth,  but  in  spirit  those  sweet  singers  seemed 
hovering  around  him  :  — 

"  Comfort  ye  my  people." 

He  looked,  too,  towards  the  Apollo  on  the  wall. 
He  recalled  the  limp  bellows-boy  who  had  sat 
there  sixteen  years  ago.  How  those  words  then 
comforted  him  !  How  he  loved  to  sing  them  now ! 

"  Speak  ye  comfortably  to  Jerusalem,  and  cry  unto  her  that 
her  warfare  is  accomplished,  that  her  iniquity  is  pardoned." 

It  was  Dot. 


CHAPTER  X. 

REV.     MR.     GLASS     MAKES     A     CLAM-BAKE      FOR      HIS 

CITY  FRIENDS,    WITH    RESULTS    DESCRIBED 

BY    AUNT    TO    UNCLE    AS    FOLLOWS  : 

"  Eben,  is  that  you  ? 

"  I'm  glad  you  have  come  home.  Such  a  day  as 
I  have  had  ! 

"  Why?  Mr.  Glass's  clam-bake. 

"  Mr.  Glass  !  —  he  hasn't  any  more  brains  than  a 
robin  —  I  don't  like  him,  and  I  don't  believe  Jef 
ferson  does,  either.  I'd  like  to  hear  him  preach 
just  once.  I  suppose  I  shall  when  I  go  up  from 
the  Cape. 

"  What  has  happened?  What  ain't  happened ! 
Mr.  Glass,  you  know,  was  so  taken  with  that  clam 
bake  that  we  had  here  last  week,  that  he  thought 
it  would  be  a  very  fine  notion  to  give  a  bake 
of  his  own  to  his  Boston  friends.  You  told  him 
that  you  had  no  objection,  and  on  Carrie's  account 
I  favored  the  plan.  I  rather  wanted  to  see  his 
Boston  friends.  Well,  he  hired  Hoggarty,  the 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  105 

Irishman,  to  help  him  ;  also  counted  on  the  help 
of  Jeff. 

"Well,  you  ought  to  have  seen  his  friends  as  they 
came  skippin'  up  to  the  house  after  the  train  arrived ! 
They  were  a  lot  of  young  men,  thin  as  rails.  Some 
on  them  had  spectacles  on  one  eye  and  some  on 
both ;  all  had  canes  or  umbrellas,  and  books  or 
magazines. 

"Mr.  Glass  ran  out  to  meet  um,  and  I  heard 
one  on  um  say  : 

"'How  are  ye,  old  boy?'  We  don't  meet  our 
minister  in  that  way. 

"There  were  eight  on  um.  In  the  course  of  an 
hour,  I  happened  to  look  out  of  the  window,  and  I 
saw  a  sight  that  would  have  astonished  one  of  the 
old  prophets.  It  was  two  objects  flying  through 
the  air,  half  men  and  half  wheels ;  like  the  pictures 
in  the  almanac,  of  a  strange  race  of  beings  in  early 
times,  half  men  and  half  horses.  The  wheel 
seemed  flying  the  men,  and  where  the  man  left  off 
and  the  wheel  began  I  couldn't  imagine. 

"  Up  they  came  to  the  door. 

"  Brought  our  centipedes  with  us,  old  fellow," 
said  one  of  them  to  Mr.  Glass.  "Been  making  the 
sand  fly  for  an  hour." 

"Then  the  men  and  the  wheels  came  apart.  I 
never  was  more  astonished  in  my  life. 


106  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

"  Mr.  Glass  had  bought  ten  bushels  of  clams  to 
feed  these  ten  young  men.  Why,  ten  bushels 
would  have  fed  a  thousand  such  fellows,  with 
basket  fulls  to  spare. 

"  There  was  a  great  smoke  at  the  bake-hole  ;  Mr. 
Glass  and  Mr.  Hoggarty  ran  hither  and  thither.  I 
was  very  busy  makin'  the  dressin'  and  the  pies, 
and  Carrie  entertained  the  ten  thin  young  men  on 
the  piazza. 

"About  one  o'clock  Jeff  came  in  with  a  scared 
look  on  his  face. 

"'Somethin'  happened,'  said  he. 

"  '  Massy  !     What  ? '   said  I. 

'"The  bake-hole  is  opened,  and  Hoggarty  has 
run  away.' 

"  '  Hoggarty's  run  away  ? ' 

"'Yes,  he  opened  the  bake-hole,  and  ate  one  or 
two  clams,  and  just  said  "  Holy  St.  Patrick!  "  and 
leaped  over  the  wall  and  run  home  a  minute,  and 
I  have  just  seen  him  going  over  the  hill  half  a 
mile  away.  What  do  you  suppose  it  is  ? ' 

" '  Limy,  I  guess,'  said  I. 

"'What's  to  be  done  ?' 

"'I'll  tell  you.  You  act  as  waiter;  bring  the 
bake  to  the  tables,  and  I  will  go  out  and  serve  it 
at  the  tables.  That  will  make  things  pleasant  all 
around.' 


HAGGARTY    RUNS. 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  IO/ 

"When  I  went  to  the  tables  there  sot  the  ten 
young  men  lookin'  as  though  they  hadn't  had  any 
thing  to  eat  since  childhood.  As  I  remarked, 
some  on  um  had  spectacles  on  one  eye,  and  some 
on  both.  Mr.  Glass  and  Carrie  sat  at  the  head  of 
the  table. 

"  'The  bake  is  ready,'  said  I. 

"'Yes,'  said  Mr.  Glass.  'The  waiter  has  gone; 
queer,  aint  it  ? ' 

"  'I  have  arranged  with  Jeff  to  serve  the  tables. 
Will  you  ask  a  blessin',  Mr.  Glass  ? ' 

"He  turned  white  as  a  ghost  and  then  red  as  a 
rooster,  and  there  followed  a  strange  sort  of  a 
silence  —  and  he  a  minister,  too!  I  couldn't 
imagine  what  made  him  so  backward,  none  of  the 
Cape  ministers  are  so.  We  always  ask  a  blessing 
at  a  clam-bake. 

"  I  was  determined  to  stand  by  my  colors.  I 
never  yet  feared  the  face  of  clay.  I  covered  my 
face  with  my  hands,  and  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  wouldn't  move  an  inch  until  Mr.  Glass  or  one  of 
those  students,  asked  a  blessin'. 

"  It  was  awful  solemn. 

"  Well,  while  I  was  in  that  devotional  attitude, 
waitin',  Hoggarty's  wife  came  up  behind  me  unbe 
known,  and  fairly  hissed  in  my  ear  :  — 


108  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

"'That  there  bake  is  all  raw  \  Just  as  raw  as 
'twas  when  it  went  into  the  bake-hole.  That  city 
feller  made  the  bake-hole  of  old  stones.' 

"It  came  upon  me  like  a  thunder-clap ! 

"'Pity  sake!  where  is  Hoggarty?'  said  I  in  a 
whisper. 

"'He's  scooted — he  wa'n't  to  blame.' 

"Well  I  got  up  and  went  to  the  bake-hole,  and 
just  bit  one  of  those  clams,  and  it  was  just  as 
tough  as  whit-leather.  I  turned  round  and  rolled 
my  eyes  up  to  the  skies. 

"There's  nothin'  like  havin'  grace  at  a  tryin' 
time.  You  think  that  I  havn't  much  self-control ; 
but  I  have.  I  felt  as  though  I  wished  that  the 
earth  would  open  and  swaller  me  up ;  but  when  I 
looked  around  and  saw  the  wonderin'  look  on  Mr. 
Glass's  face,  and  Carrie  dressed  up  so  pretty,  and 
lookin'  so  innocent,  I  just  said  :  — 

'"The  bake  is  not  quite  ready  yet;  if  you  will 
all  go  to  the  croquet-ground  for  an  hour  or  so, 
Jeff  and  I  will  arrange  it,  and  I  will  call  you 
when  we  are  ready.' 

"  Then  I  took  a  peck  of  them  clams  out  of  the 
ten  bushel  in  the  bake-hole,  and  boiled  um  quick 
over  the  kitchen  fire,  and  I  served  them  with  all 
the  good  things  in  the  house,  and  when  they  had 


UP  FROM    THE   CAPE.  109 

all  had  a  good  dinner  and  a  good  time,  I  asked 
'em  if  one  of  'em  wouldn't  return  thanks  —  and 
who  do  you  think  did  it  ? 

"Jeff?" 

"  Yes,  Jeff,  and  I  never  was  more  astonished  in 
all  my  life.  But,  then,  Jeff  was  the  only  one 
besides  myself  who  really  knew  how  much  there 
was  to  be  thankful  for. 

"  Well,  I  did  everything  I  could  to  make  the 
visit  pleasant  and  to  cover  up  the  ignorance  of 
Mr.  Glass,  and  just  as  one  of  them  centipede  men 
was  hoppin'  onto  his  wheel,  what  do  you  suppose 
I  heard  him  say  to  Mr.  Glass  ?  —  Just  this  :  — 

"'You  didn't  fix  that  bake  right,  old  fellow, 
and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Old  Mother  Sassafras, 
we  wouldn't  have  had  any  dinner  at  all.' 

" '  Old  Mother  Sassafras  ! '  And  that  after  all  I 
had  done  for  them,  too!" 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    OLD     HOUSE     AND    HOME,    AND    AUNT    DESIRE'S 
TWO    WISHES. 

There  is  a  charm  about  an  old  country  house,  if 
its  associations  have  been  interesting.  Uncle 
Eben's  was  older  than  the  Republic,  and  a  part  of  its 
mahogany  furniture  had  come  far  down  from  colonial 
times.  In  the  old  parlor,  his  ancestors  for  three 
generations  had  been  married.  In  one  of  the 
great  chambers,  called  the  "  spare  chamber  "  his 
grand-parents,  great-grand-parents,  and  several 
uncles  and  aunts,  of  saintly  memory,  had  died. 

In  this  last  room  were  portraits,  old  family 
Bibles,  hymn  books,  silhouettes  and  "samplers." 
Over  the  open  fire-place,  from  whose  hearth  the 
old-time  log-fires  had  now  forever  faded,  was  a 
cupboard  or  recess  containing  the  Family  Christian 
Library,  Edward's  works,  the  American  Magazine, 
the  New  England  Family  Magazine  and  the 
Youth's  Companion.  On  an  antique  bureau  were 


UP   FROM  7"HE   CAPE.  Ill 

copies  of  the  old  English  poets  —  Collins,  Gray, 
Beattie,  Thompson,  Goldsmith. 

I  read  .here  these  fine  old  pastoral  poets,  with 
appreciation,  for  the  first  time.  Their  influence 
fostered  my  growing  taste  for  the  independency  of 
country  living  and  thinking  ;  they  led  me  to  see 
rural  life  as  I  had  never  interpreted  it  before. 

Aunt  Desire  was  a  wonderful  house-keeper  ;  she 
was  in  more  respects  than  one  a  superior  woman, 
with  all  her  eccentricities. 

"I  should  be  perfectly  happy,"  said  uncle  to  me 
confidentially  one  day,  "if  it  were  not  for  wife's 
tongue.  But  then,"  he  added,  "she  took  such 
good  care  of  my  father  and  mother  and  aunts  in 
their  old  age  ;  that  was  when  she  was  a  young 
woman,  too.  Why,  there  were  ten  years  that  she 
did  not  go  out  anywhere  ;  just  devoted  herself  to 
my  folks  as  though  they  had  been  her  own.  That 
is  what  I  call  a  test  of  love. 

"  She  will  never  see  the  money,  poor  woman, 
that  she  let  Dr.  Gamm  have  to  invest."  He  added 
with  a  half  roguish  look,  "  Won't  her  tongue  go  when 
she  finds  out  how  she  has  been  taken  in  ?  But  I  have 
two  hundred  dollars  that  I  can  spare,  and  I  am 
going  to  give  her  that  when  she  goes  up  from  the 
Cape.  She  will  be  a  wiser  woman  before  she 
returns." 


112  UP   FROM   THE  CAPE. 

The  table  was  always  kept  set,  and  was  loaded 
with  the  best  food  at  breakfast,  dinner  and  tea. 
The  new  milk,  fresh  eggs,  vegetables  of  all  kinds 
direct  from  the  garden,  the  honey,  preserves,  and 
berries,  were  my  choice,  although  Aunt  said  that 
I  seldom  ate  anything  but  the  "trimmin's  of  the 
table." 

There  was  a  spirit  of  fine  old  hospitality  in  thus 
keeping  the  table  always  ready  for  the  guest.  In 
spring  and  fall  the  drovers  used  to  call  and  be 
entertained.  In  mid-summer,  Methodist  ministers 
and  class-leaders,  especially  of  the  old  school,  fre 
quently  stopped  on  their  way  to  the  vineyard. 

There  was  a  "prophet's  chamber"  kept  especi 
ally  for  brethren  who  liked  to  prolong  their  stay, 
an  occurrence  that  was  not  uncommon. 

It  was  a  somewhat  remarkable  room,  this  "proph 
et's  chamber."  The  bedstead  had  high  posts, 
curiously  carved,  and  curtains.  Over  the  shelf 
hung  a  steel  engraving  of  the  death  of  John  Wes 
ley.  Biographies  of  Zinzendorf,  Wesley,  Fenelon, 
Madam  Guyon,  and  of  several  notable  revivalists 
of  the  last  century  were  piled  upon  the  table.  The 
woodbine  fell  loosely  about  the  windows,  and  the 
swallows  above  it  made  their  nests  in  the  eaves. 

The    interest    that    uncle    took    in    me  seemed 


UP   FROM  THE   CAPE.  113 

rather  remarkable  after  the  indifference  with 
which  I  had  been  treated  at  home.  Father  was 
always  absorbed  in  business,  and  mother  in  society. 
My  brothers  were  never  intimate  with  each  other, 
but  made  their  friendships  outside  of  the  family. 

Uncle  never,  or  seldom,  gave  me  advice  directly. 
When  he  wished  to  show  me  a  truth,  and  impress 
it  upon  me,  he  commonly  did  it  by  illustration. 

I  had  told  him  that  my  love  of  billiard  playing 
had  sometimes  led  me  to  the  bar,  that  I  might  not 
seem  discourteous  to  those  who  invited  me  to 
such  refreshments.  I  noticed  that  his  face  always 
shadowed  when  I  made  allusion  to  these  conven 
tionalities  ;  he  seemed  to  indicate  by  his  manner 
that  he  thought  it  dangerous  not  to  be  always 
positive  and  strong.  I  shall  never  forget,  how 
one  evening,  he  expressed  this  thought  to  me. 

We  were  sitting  under  the  porch  woodbine, 
uncle  and  aunt,  sister  and  I.  Aunt  chanced  to 
speak  of  Stephen  Marliave,  a  man  of  some  local 
reputation,  who  had  died  within  a  year. 

"Yes  —  Stephen,"  said  uncle.  "  He  was  one  of 
the  largest-hearted  men  I  ever  knew.  We  all 
owed  something  to  Stephen." 

Then  he  added  in  a  tone  of  regret  :  — 

"  He  had  only  one  fault." 


114  UP  FROM   THE    CAPE. 

The  light  fell  in  pencil  rays  through  the  trees. 
I  sat  in  silence  enjoying  the  refreshing  coolness. 

"He  had  great  abilities,  Stephen  had.  We 
sent  him  to  the  Legislature  three  times.  They 
thought  of  nominating  him  for  Governor. 

"  But,"  he  added,  sadly,  "  Stephen  had  one 
fault."  He  looked  at  me. 

I  made  no  answer.     I  was  tired. 

"A  very  generous  man,  Stephen  was.  Always 
visited  the  sick  —  he  was  feeling  —  when  any  one 
was  in  trouble.  The  old  people  all  liked  him. 
Even  the  children  used  to  follow  him  in  the 
streets." 

"A  good  man,  indeed,"  I  said,  indifferently. 

"Yes  ;  he  only  had  one  fault." 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Only  intemperance." 

"Did  it  harm  him?" 

"Yes,  somewhat.  He  didn't  seem  to  have  any 
power  to  resist  it  at  last.  He  got  behindhand 
and  had  to  mortgage  his  farm,  and  finally  had  to 
sell  it.  His  wife  died  on  account  of  the  reverse  ; 
kind  of  crushed,  disappointed.  Then  his  children, 
not  having  the  right  bringing  up,  turned  out 
badly.  His  intemperance  seemed  to  mortify 
them  and  take  away  their  spirit.  He  had  to 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  115 

leave  politics ;  'twouldn't  do,  you  see.  Then  we 
had  to  set  him  aside  from  church,  and  at  last  his 
habits  brought  on  paralysis  and  we  had  to  take 
him  to  the  poor-house.  He  died  there  ;  only 
forty-five.  There  were  none  of  his  children  at 
the  funeral.  Poor  man,  he  had  only  one  fault. 

"  Only  one  fault !  "     He  paused. 

"  The  ship  had  only  one  leak,  but  it  went  down. 

"  Only  one  fault !"     He  paused  again. 

"The  temple  had  only  one  decaying  pillar,  but 
it  fell. 

"  Only  one  fault.  Home  gone,  wife  lost, 
family  ruined,  honor  forfeited,  social  and  relig 
ious  privileges  abandoned ;  broken  health,  poverty, 
paralysis  and  the  poorhouse. 

"  One  fault,  only  one,  Jefferson. 

"  Stephen  had  but  one  fault." 

I  said  nothing.     He  added  :  — 

"  Indulgence  in  a  single  wrong  propensity,  no 
matter  how  small  it  may  seem  at  first,  is  an  open 
way  to  ruin.  The  loss  of  some  of  the  finest  char 
acters  that  the  world  has  seen  may  be  traced  to  a 
single  fault,  as  some  of  the  most  stately  wrecks 
that  drift  upon  the  seashore  are  caused  by  a 
single  imperfect  timber." 


Il6  UP  FROM   THE  CAPE. 

'Men 

Carrying,  I  say,  the  stamp  of  one  defect, 
Their  virtues  else  be  they  as  pure  as  grace, 
As  infinite  as  man  may  undergo, 
Shall  in  the  general  censure  take  corruption 
From  that  particular  fault.' 

"A  single  error  destroys  one's  self  respect, 
weakens  one's  resolution,  and  impairs  one's  confi 
dence  in  God.  The  knowledge  of  evil  is  a  fearful 
thing,  and  the  only  safety  for  a  youth  is  to  resist 
its  beginnings;  for  'the  beginning  of  evil  is  as 
when  one  letteth  out  water.' ' 

I  saw  the  truth  that  he  wished  to  convey,  and 
felt  it. 

He  was  not  only  careful  for  my  moral  training, 
but  seemed  concerned  about  a  matter  with  which 
I  had  never  been  approached  before  —  my  politi 
cal  opinions  and  education. 

"  I  tried  to  bring  my  sons  up  well,"  he  remarked, 
the  same  evening,  "  and  I  put  in  their  way  the 
best  books  on  American  history  —  I  wanted  them 
to  know  how  to  vote.  Every  American  young 
man  should  be  trained  to  vote  intelligently.  I 
hope  brother  is  thoughtful  about  this  matter  ?" 

"  Father  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Why  he  never  votes  himself.      Says  he  has  no 

time." 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  1 1/ 

"  And  Eugene  ?  " 

"Brother  Eugene  —  he  says  it  is  vulgar  to  vote; 
that  no  gentlemen's  sons  now  take  any  interest  in 
American  politics.  He  belongs  to  a  swell  club ; 
young  men  who  talk  English  politics  ;  read  the 
London  Atheneum  and  N.  Y.  National;  —  pride 
themselves  on  knowing  nothing  about  home  affairs 
at  all.  Why,  I  don't  think  Eugene  could  tell  who 
is  his  representative  in  Congress." 

"  Now,  Eben,"  said  Aunt,  "why  do  you  set  that 
boy  to  talkin'  in  that  way.  Eugene  Endicott  is  a 
gentleman,  and  don't  hang  around  town  meetin's 
as  our  boys  used  to  do.  Perhaps  if  you  sent  your 
sons  to  Paris,  after  they  had  left  the  Academy, 
they  never  would  have  gone  West.  I  always  had 
an  ambition  for  those  boys.  You  meant  well  — 
but  it  ain't  no  use  to  say  nothin'.  There  ain't 
much  for  any  on  us  in  this  world." 

She  rocked  violently  to  and  fro,  and  added :  — 

"What  would  I  give  if  those  boys  were  here  to 
night.  I  wish  that  they  had  never  gone  away. 
It  was  nothing  but  that  independent  spirit  that 
Eben  distilled  into  them,  that  sent  them  off  \Vest. 
John  went  to  Kansas  that  he  might  vote  the  Free 
State  ticket  at  the  time  of  the  struggle  against 
the  Lecompton  Constitution  ;  how  I  do  hate  that 


Il8  UP  FROM   THE    CAPE. 

word  ;  I  used  to  hear  nothing  else  in  Old  Buch 
anan's  times.  Then  Henry  followed  him,  and 
both  came  near  being  killed  by  the  Border  Ruf 
fians,  as  they  called  them.  It  was  my  prayer  that 
one  of  them  boys  might  become  a  lawyer  and  the 
other  a  minister.  I  would  have  felt  that  I  had 
lived  for  something  then.  Those  were  the  two 
wishes  that  I  used  to  carry  to  the  Lord  —  but 
'twan't  no  use  to  carry  'em  to  the  Lord,  and  tain't 
no  use  to  say  nothin'  —  you  all  know  what  hus 
band  is,  you  know." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE  OLD    CAMP-MEETING    AND    THE    NEW. 

"  Who  do  you  think  is  goin'  to  preach  on  the 
camp-ground,  Sunday?"  asked  Aunt  Desire,  of 
Uncle,  one  August  day,  laying  down  the  paper. 

"The  Bishop?" 

"No." 

"Dr.  Hope?" 

"No." 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Dr.  Gamm.      I'm  goin." 

There  was  a  bright  expression  in  Aunt's  face, 
and  a  shadowy  one  in  Uncle's. 

"  I  don't  think  that  I  will  attend,"  said  Uncle. 

"Then  I  will  git  Jeff  to  go  with  me." 

Uncle  looked  relieved. 

I  had  heard  Uncle's  friends  who  were  Metho 
dists,  relate  wonderful  tales  of  the  old-time  Vine 
yard  Camp-Meeting,  now  a  by-gone  glory.  The 
patriarchal  simplicity  of  these  gatherings  of  God, 
beneath  the  great  oaks  through  which  continually 


120  UP    FROM    THE   CAPE. 

breathed  the  summer  winds  of  the  sea,  was  indeed 
a  holy  memory  to  the  old,  and  the  picture  has  a 
poetic  charm  for  any  susceptible  and  devout  mind, 
and  although  I  well  knew  that  the  camp-meetings 
of  to-day  were  too  much  exhibitions  of  vulgar 
wealth  and  pleasure  seeking,  I  could  hardly  divest 
them  of  the  coloring  of  their  old  associations. 

What  scenes  were  these  old  gatherings  like  the 
school  of  prophets,  under  the  oaks !  The  camp  of 
tents  arose  like  the  tents  of  the  Hebrews  around 
the  early  tabernacle.  There  multitudes  gathered 
to  listen  to  men  moved  by  the  Divine  Spirit,  and 
to  seek  the  securities  of  that  life  that  shall  out-live 
the  stars.  We  are  told  of  the  "shining  counte 
nances  of  Christian  faces  lighted  up  with  holy 
joy:"  of  the  morning  songs  in  the  tents  as  the 
great  sun  stood  like  a  gate  of  fire  half  risen  above 
the  sea  ;  of  the  sunrise  hymn  of  the  new  converts, 
which  was  termed  in  mystic  language,  "  The  sere 
nade  of  angels."  Father  Bonny  was  there  :  Kent, 
Butler,  Allen,  Liversey.  We  hear  the  old  Metho 
dist  speak  of  the  "awful  sense  of  the  Divine  Pres 
ence"  that  used  to  fill  the  encampment ;  how  that, 
to  use  the  highly  mystical  terms  of  the  period,  "the 
slain  of  the  Lord  lay  upon  every  side." 

We    are  told   of    Sabbath    mornings   that   rose 


UP   FROM   THE  CAPE.  121 

"amid  bursts  of  hallelujahs  from  the  hosts  of  the 
Spiritual  Israel ;"  of  the  parting  ceremonies,  when 
the  people,  marching  in  a  procession,  within  the 
circle  of  the  tents,  suddenly  halted,  and  then  each 
passing  all  the  others,  bid  every  one  a  farewell. 

"  Farewell,  my  dear  brethren,  the  time  is  at  hand, 
That  we  must  be  parted  from  this  social  band.  " 

What  serene  days  were  those  when  the  mid 
summer  sunlight  in  the  dry  heaven  dreamed  over 
the  great  water  ways  to  the  ocean  :  How  awful 
was  the  scene  when  the  tempest  darkened  the  red 
sky,  and  smote  the  sea,  and  bent  before  it  the 
giant  oaks :  How  calmly  and  gloriously  rose  the 
full  moon  when  the  tempest  had  passed  :  What 
hymns  arose  in  the  grove  —  prophets'  inspirations, 
and  not  mocking  birds'  songs.  I  seem  to  hear 
them,  as  the  old  people  used  to  sing  them  to  me 
in  childhood,  on  my  visits  to  Sandwich  and  Fal- 
mouth. 

It  was  holy  ground.  Where  easy  .  preachers 
now  too  often  blow  the  bubbles  of  poetic  specula 
tion,  and  lighter  hearers  as  often  listen,  dividing 
their  time,  perhaps,  between  pulpit  pyrotechnics 
and  those  of  another  kind ;  where  showy  peddlers 
of  real  estate  talk  over  their  wares,  and  look  out  on 


122  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

the  sea  and  up  to  the  stars  of  the  sky  and  hold 
both  as  mere  pieces  of  valueless  property,  the 
bushes  once  burned  with  flame,  and  the  altars  of 
Jehovah  blazed  with  celestial  fire. 

We  went  to    the  Camp-Meeting — aunt  and  I. 

If  the  "Old  Spirit"  was  gone,  the  beautiful 
temple  of  nature  remained,  even  with  the  de 
formities  of  the  hotels  and  the  cottages  of  the 
spiritual  sluggards  that  surrounded  it.  The  old 
groves  I  wished  to  see,  the  star-light  over  the 
waters,  the  sunrise,  the  summer  bays  with  their 
thousand  sails,  all  brought  back  the  stories  I  had 
heard  of  the  time  when  here  simple  souls  came 
together  to  worship  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth. 

Such  people  came  here  now  :  they  were  respected 
as  "  old  time  Methodists,"  but  their  power  with 
people  was  gone.  The  Vineyard  Association 
could  no  longer  say,  "  silver  and  gold  have  I  none," 
nor  to  the  helpless  halting  soul,  "  rise  up  and 
walk."  Uncle  had  described  the  change  to  me, 
and  I  saw  it  as  he  saw  it,  and  as  any  one  may  see 
it  at  a  glance,  as  his  eye  sweeps  the  gay  town  of 
the  trees. 

We  arrived  Saturday  evening.  Aunt's  first 
inquiry  of  the  brethren  was  for  the  "  boardin' 
place  of  Rev.  Dr.  Gamm." 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  123 

"  I  have  some  secular  business  with  him,"  she 
said  to  me,  when  she  noticed  my  surprise.  "  My 
dividends  —  you  know  ;  I  told  you." 

The  next  day  was  in  August  splendor.  There 
was  a  brilliant  gathering  of  unconcerned-looking 
people  in  the  pavilion.  Dr.  Gamm  preached  on 
electricity  and  the  velocity  of  celestial  visitants  to 
the  earth  ;  the  inter-stellar  wonders,  and  the  city 
of  gold.  It  was  a  meteor  flash  ;  a  surprise,  and 
gone. 

When  he  ended,  Aunt  hastened  to  the  platform, 
which  was  filled  with  ministers.  The  Doctor  evi 
dently  saw  her  coming,  and  did  not  desire  an 
interview,  and  quickly  moved  away  with  one  of 
his  friends. 

After  the  evening  sermon,  which  was  given  by 
a  holy-looking,  spiritual-minded  old  man,  and  was 
of  excellent  spirit  and  influence,  a  social  meet 
ing  was  held,  and  among  the  leaders  appeared  the 
Doctor.  Aunt  also  appeared,  an  unexpected 
seeker  after  knowledge,  and  presently  the  Doctor 
had  gone. 

"I  didn't  enjoy  the  meetin'  greatly,"  said  Aunt 
to  me,  after  the  service  was  over ;  "  never  mind ; 
I'll  have  it  out  with  Dr.  Gamm  when  I  come  up 
from  the  Cape.  I'll  show  him  my  capabilities  yet 
—  you  wait  and  see." 


124  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

The  old  man's  evening  sermon,  as  I  said,  was 
beautiful.  It  made  me  feel  that  there  was  some 
thing  in  his  soul  that  I  needed  to  complete  my 
life  and  its  aim  and  happiness  that  I  did  not 
possess.  I  dreamed  of  it. 

The  next  day,  as  we  steamed  away  on  the 
pretty  boat,  several  people  on  deck  discussed  the 
Sunday  morning  sermon  in  our  hearing. 

"A  fine  discourse,  that  on  the  inter-stellar 
wonders  and  celestial  splendors,"  said  one. 

"  Reminded  me  of  Daniel  or  Ezekiel's  vision," 
said  another. 

"  Like  the  descent  of  the  gods  on  Olympus, " 
said  a  pretty  miss. 

"  Of  what  did  it  remind  you  ?  "  I  asked  of  Aunt 
Desire. 

"  Well,  Jeff,  I  was  rather  worldly-minded,  yes 
terday.  It  reminded  me,  well  —  I  wouldn't  like 
to  say." 

"Just  to  me  ?  " 

"Well — Treasure  Mountain.  Don't  tell  Eben. 
You  know  what  husband  is,  you  know." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

PICNICS. "CROWS    IN    THE    TREES    AND    HAWKS    IN 

THE    AIR." 

On  one  of  the  hills  back  of  the  orchard,  called 
Pine  Tree  Hill,  was  an  old  Indian  burial-ground, 
such  as  are  often  seen  on  the  farms  near  the 
coast.  It  was  shaded  by  a  grove  of  pines  and 
oaks  ;  the  ground  was  full  of  sea-shells,  and  the 
graves  were  marked  by  rows  of  mossy  stones, 
whose  tops  had  almost  sunk  to  a  level  with  the 
grass. 

It  was  a  favorite  picnic-ground.  Parties,  socie 
ties  and  churches  held  picnics  there,  in  much  the 
same  way  that  church  societies  made  their  annual 
clam-bakes  under  the  fifty-year-old  trees  in  the 
orchard. 

I  sometimes  went  there  with  uncle,  on  warm 
afternoons,  the  better  to  enjoy  the  breeze  from 
the  Bay.  Uncle  liked  the  place,  and  sometimes 
read  old  histories  there,  under  the  trees. 

He  told  me  there  many  Indian  stories  that  are 


126  UP   FROM    THE   CAPE. 

not  found  in  histories,  as  he  said,  but  which  he 
thought  very  romantic  and  of  much  local  interest. 
Among  these  were  accounts  of  Alexander,  the  son 
of  the  great  Massasoit,  and  his  warrior  queen, 
Weebamo,  who  was  truly  a  Boadicea ;  of  the  son 
of  Philip  who  was  sold  into  slavery  to  Spain ;  of 
Amy,  the  daughter  of  Massasoit,  whose  descend 
ants  still  live  in  a  town  above  the  Cape,  and  are 
sometimes  called  "The  Princesses." 

Whenever  the  children  had  a  picnic  on  Pine 
Tree  Hill,  they  invited  Aunt  Desire.  Her  stories 
and  her  cookies,  as  well  as  many  friendly  offices 
in  the  way  of  dishes,  pitchers  of  milk,  and  pitchers 
of  water,  were  sure  to  be  a  benevolent  feature  of 
the  rustic  spread.  Aunt  was  a  kind  of  gypsy  queen 
on  such  occasions  ;  a  delight  to  all  good  people  and 
obedient  children,  and  a  terror  to  evil  doers  ;  her 
opinions  were  decisive,  and  her  influence  over  the 
young  was  absolute.  A  hundred  questions  arise 
at  such  a  gathering,  but  no  one  ever  thought  of 
disputing  the  opinions  and  decisions  of  Aunt 
Desire. 

Sitting  on  the  grass  or  carpet  of  dry  pine 
needles,  under  the  intermingling  trees,  with  one 
or  two  old  ladies,  and  a  dozen  or  some  twenty 
children  about  her,  what  delightful  stories  she 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  I2/ 

used  to  tell !  There  was  a  kind  of  magic  and 
magnetism  in  them,  or  rather  perhaps  in  her 
manner  of  telling  them,  that  spirited  the  youthful 
fancy  off  to  fairy-land.  One  of  these  stories,  often 
repeated,  related  to  a  certain  wild  goose  which  an 
old  wife  on  the  Cape  once  gave  to  her  son  to  carry 
to  sea  for  his  Thanksgiving  dinner,  but  which  flew 
home  after  a  voyage  of  some  days,  and  was  found 
in  the  farm-yard,  "honking,'"  on  Thanksgiving 
morning. 

But  her  favorite  story  with  the  little  people,  she 
called  "  Crows  in  the  Trees  and  Hawks  in  the 
Air."  I  heard  her  relate  it  several  times.  She 
gave  it  an  air  of  mystery,  and  imitated  the  birds 
of  which  she  spoke  with  highly  dramatic  effect, 
and  made  the  final  tragedy  wonderfully  agreeable 
to  the  children  by  liberal  donations  of  cookies. 

CROWS    IN    THE    TREES    AND    HAWKS    IN    THE    AIR. 

"  It  is  a  story  with  a  moral,"  she  would  begin. 
"Have  some  cookies?  Now,  listen,  and  you  will 
learn  what  it  is  not  to  obey  your  betters.  'Tis  a 
dreadful  thing,  a  very  dreadful  thing.  There  are 
crows  in  the  trees  and  hawks  in  the  air.  Let  me 
tell  you  about  Biddy  High-Fly. 


128  UP  FROM   THE    CAPE. 

"  Well,  old  Mrs.  Red  Comb  was  a  very  discreet 
bird,  but  she  had  a  very  ambitious  pullet,  who  had 
caused  her  more  trouble  than  all  the  rest  of  her 
brood.  The  pullet's  name  was  Miss  High-Fly. 

"'My  daughter,' said  Mrs.  Red  Comb  to  her 
one  day,  '  I  am  afraid  that  you  will  come  to  some 
evil  end.  There  are  crows  in  the  trees  and  hawks 
in  the  air.  Your  waywardness  troubles  me.  Let 
me  advise  you  to  be  on  very  obedient  terms  with 
the  mistress  of  the  farm-house.  Let  her  make 
your  nest  and  select  your  eggs  for  setting,  and 
have  the  oversight  of  your  family  when  they  are 
hatched.' 

"'Not  I,' said  Biddy  High-Fly.  '  Not  I.  Cut 
—  cut — cut  —  not  I,  cut!  They  don't  rob  me  of 
half  of  my  eggs,  and  then  stick  me  up  in  a  dingy 
hen-house  on  the  same  nest  in  which  my  great 
grandmother  used  to  sit.  I'm  a  biddy  of  spirit,  I 
be — cut — cut  —  a  cut !  I  mean  to  steal  my  nest 
in  the  woods  or  fields,  and  have  all  of  my  eggs 
myself,  I  do.  Then  I  shall  come  home  at  last 
bringing  a  brood  that  will  make  all  of  the  hens 
cackle,  and  the  mistress  of  the  farm-house  stare.' 

"'But  the  crows?' 

"  'A  straw  for  the  crows!     I  will  hide  my  nest.' 

"  '  And  the  hawks  ? ' 


UP  FROM  THE    CAPE.  129 

"  '  A  fly  for  the  hawks  !  They'll  find  that  there 
is  one  biddy  that  has  the  courage  to  defend 
herself.' 

"  '  What  would  you  do  with  your  chickens  after 
they  were  hatched  ?  Who  would  feed  them  ? ' 

" '  Squire  Parsnip's  corn-field  would  be  good 
picking,  I  fancy.' 

"  'The  squire's  men  would  kill  you.' 

"'They'd  have  to  catch  me  first.  I  have  got 
both  legs  and  wings,  I  have.  I  should  squat  down 
if  I  heard  any  one  coming. ' 

"  Mrs.  Red  Comb  dropped  her  tail  in  despair, 
and  only  said,  '  You  poor,  silly  creature !  You 
will  find  out  one  day  that  there  are  crows  in  the 
trees  and  hawks  in  the  air  !  ' 

"  So  Biddy  High-Fly  made  her  a  nest  under  a 
bramble-bush  in  the  woods.  She  laid  sixteen 
eggs,  and  then  she  begun  to  sit. 

"One  sunny  afternoon  she  was  startled  by  the 
sound  of  'caw  —  caw — caw,'  and  presently  Mr. 
Crow  dropped  down  on  a  green  bough  near  her 
nest.  Biddy's  heart  was  all  a-flutter. 

'"Fine  afternoon,'  said  Mr.  Crow — 'caw  —  caw 

caw.' 

"'Yes,  sir,  —  cut — cut,'  answered  Biddy,  very 
short. 

5 


130  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

" '  You  are  one  of  the  finest  biddies  I  ever  saw,' 
said  Mr.  Crow.  '  You  have  a  nice  nest  of  eggs, 
no  doubt  ? ' 

"'Cut  —  a — cut,'  said  Biddy,  good-humoredly, 
smoothing  her  ruffled  feathers. 

"'Will  you  just  rise  a  little,  and  let  me  see 
your  fine  eggs  ? '  politely  asked  Mr.  Crow. 

"  Biddy  displayed  her  treasures. 

"  '  If  you  hatch  all  of  those  fine  eggs,'  said  Mr. 
Crow,  '  you  and  your  family  will  be  the  ornament 
and  glory  of  the  woods.  I  wish  you  success. 
Good-afternoon.  I  will  call  again  some  day.' 

"  Mr.  Crow  bowed  very  politely,  and  Biddy, 
feeling  highly  flattered,  rose  and  made  a  courtesy. 

"Mr.  Crow  did  indeed  call  again  one  day,  and  at 
a  time  when  Biddy  was  not  at  home.  When  s"he 
came  back  to  her  nest  she  found  that  four  of  her 
eggs  were  gone.  She  concluded  that  some  low 
bred  pole-cat  had  been  that  way,  but  she  never 
suspected  polite  Mr.  Crow. 

"  Biddy  resolved  not  to  go  out  of  sight  of  her 
nest  again,  but  to  live  by  catching  flies.  She 
frequently  observed  Mr.  Crow  sitting  upon  the 
top  of  a  tall  maple  tree,  and  wondered  that  he  did 
not  drop  down  and  have  a  chat. 

"  Have  some  cookies  ?  Now,  do  ;  there's  more  to 
foller. 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  131 

"Well,  one  day  Mr.  Crow  called  again,  bringing 
with  him  a  number  of  his  friends.  They  compli 
mented  Biddy  on  her  beauty,  and  Mr.  Crow,  alight 
ing  close  to  her  nest,  asked  her  if  she  wouldn't  be 
so  accommodating  as  to  rise  and  let  his  friends 
see  her  fine  eggs. 

"  Biddy  rose  very  proudly,  when  suddenly  Mr. 
Crow  darted  under  her,  and,  lifting  her  up,  gave 
her  a  toss  over  his  head.  His  friends  alighted 
around  the  nest,  and  a  goodly  feast  they  had. 

"When  Biddy  picked  herself  up,  and  saw  her 
eggs  disappearing,  she  begun  to  scold  most 
lustily. 

"  '  O,  you  deceitful,  lying  creature  ! '  she  said. 
'Cut — cut  —  a  —  cut.  You  black  rascal !  a  —  cut. 
You  wicked  thief  !  Cut  —  a  —  cut!' 

"Presently  there  was  a  report  of  a  gun  in  Squire 
Parsnip's  corn-field,  and  Mr.  Crow  and  his  friends 
made  a  rapid  exit. 

"Biddy  found  but  one  egg  unbroken,  and,  with 
gloomy  thoughts,  she  sat  down  on  that  solitary 
egg,  and  hid  her  head  under  her  wing,  poor  thing. 

"  In  the  course  of  time  her  one  egg  hatched, 
and  she  started,  with  her  chick,  for  Squire  Pars 
nip's  corn-field.  On  her  way  she  heard  a  rustling 
of  wings  above  her  head,  and,  looking  up,  saw 


132  UP  FROM   THE  CAPE. 

Mr.  Hawk.  She  sat  down  quickly,  covering  her 
little  chick,  and  crying  :  — 

" '  N-a-a-a  !  ' 

"'Yes,'  said  Mr.  Hawk,  'your  chicken  for  my 
dinner,  if  you  please.' 

" '  N-a-a-a,'  said  Biddy,  bristling  her  feathers, 
so  as  to  look  as  large  and  savage  as  possible. 

"  Mr.  Hawk  lit  on  Biddy's  back,  and,  for  a  few 
minutes,  made  the  feathers  fly.  Biddy  couldn't 
stand  this,  so,  uttering  a  cry  of  terror,  she  flew 
towards  the  wall  and  hid  herself  under  a  stone. 
The  last  that  she  heard  of  her  little  chick,  it  was 
peeping  in  the  sky. 

"When  she  recovered  from  her  fright,  she  went 
to  Squire  Parsnip's  corn-field  and  flew  over  the 
wall. 

"  '  Shew  ! '  exclaimed  a  frightful  voice,  and  poor 
Biddy  flew  back  again,  and  ran  for  the  farm-house 
in  the  greatest  terror. 

"'Haw  —  haw  —  haw!'  laughed  Mr.  Crow,  as 
he  saw  Biddy  trudging  home.  'Haw  —  haw  — 
haw !  What  a  fright  of  a  hen  !  '  And  all  the 
crows  on  the  tree-tops  chorussed  'Haw  —  haw  — 
haw!' 

"  The  hens  all  laughed  and  cackled  when  Biddy 
returned,  for  she  was  poor,  and  without  a  chick, 
and  her  back  was  all  bare  of  feathers. 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  133 

"'There's  that  missing  hen,'  said  the  mistress 
of  the  farm-house,  to  her  man,  Joe.  '  Catch  her, 
and  put  her  in  the  hen-coop  to  fat,  and  we'll  kill 
her  some  day.  She  don't  look  fit  to  be  out  of 
doors.' 

"  So  Biddy  High-Fly  went  into  the  iron  pot, 
and  was  never  seen  again  after  the  dinner  that 
day. 

"  Now,  children,  this  is  a  kind  of  an  allegory,  as 
Bunyan  would  say.  Always  obey  what  older  peo 
ple  say  to  ye,  because  there  are  crows  in  the  trees 
and  hawks  in  the  air.  Always  listen  to  what  the 
preacher  says.  There  are  crows  in  the  trees  and 
hawks  in  the  air.  And  what  your  teacher  says. 
There  are  crows  in  the  trees  and  hawks  in  the  air. 

"Don't  be  scared  —  not  too  scared,  I  mean. 
Be  good,  and  they'll  never  get  ye.  Now  we'll 
have  a  cookie  apiece. 

"  What  is  the  Scripture  moral  of  that  story  I 
told  you  ?  " 

"  There  are  crows  in  the  trees  and  hawks  in  the 
air,"  always  chorus  the  children, 

"  Don't  you  forget  it !  " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
TWO  LETTP:RS. 

We  had  been  riding  over  the  sandy  roads  — 
Uncle  and  I.  We  were  late  for  supper,  and  as  we 
were  leaving  the  table,  Aunt  said  : 

"Here  is  a  letter  for  each  of  you;  I  guess  yours, 
Eben,  is  from  the  boys." 

We  went  to  the  piazza,  and  both  of  us  were  soon 
absorbed  in  reading  the  letters  we  had  received. 

After  reading,,  we  each  sat  in  silence. 

Aunt  came  out  for  a  moment,  to  ask  Eben  if  the 
"  boys  were  well,"  and,  being  assured  that  they 
were,  returned  to  her  work. 

"  This  letter,"  said  Uncle,  "I  hope  will  prove 
the  first  ray  of  a  great  joy.  It  makes  me  very 
happy." 

"Mine  is  different,"  said  I.  "  It  seems  to  me 
like  the  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow.  It  makes  me 
sad.  It  is  from  father." 

"  Brother  —  isn't  he  well  ?  " 

"No." 


UP  FROM    THE   CAPE.  135 

"May  I  read  it." 

"  I  will  read  it  to  you  presently.  It  excites  me 
strangely.  Won't  you  read  me  yours,  Uncle  ? 
you  say  it  is  pleasant  ;  it  will  perhaps  make  me 
feel  easier." 

"  It  is  from  Henry  —  marked  '  Private ' ' 

KANSAS  CITY, 
August  22d. 

MY  DEAR  FATHER  : — 

I  am  to-day  forty-five  years  old.  You  will  be  glad  to 
know  that  I  am  successful  and  prosperous.  Whatever 
I  am  I  owe  to  the  influences  of  my  dear  old  home 
on  the  Cape.  It  was  there  I  learned  the  principles  that 
gave  me  independence  of  character,  and  moral  and 
physical  strength.  I  have  tried  to  be  true  to  the  prin 
ciples  you  were  so  careful  to  inculcate,  not  so  much  by 
word  as  by  example.  Your  influence  grows  upon  me 
with  years  —  never  a  son  had  a  better  father,  and  it  is 
because  you  always  were  true  to  your  own  sense  of  duty 
that  I  have  aimed  to  be  true  to  mine. 

When  I  came  to  Kansas,  it  was  more  from  the  desire 
to  help  make  it  a  free  state  than  to  gain  wealth  or  repu 
tation.  You  know  what  the  influence  of  the  JV.  Y. 
Tribune  was  to  me  then  ;  how  your  talk  of  the  duties  of 
Americans  to  the  higher  law  of  right  fired  me.  I  was 
willing  to  fight  as  I  had  voted,  and  to  die  to  make  a 
single  state  of  this  nation  of  great  possibilities  true 
to  the  principles  of  righteousness  and  freedom. 

I  was  poor  then.  I  am  well-to-do  to-day.  I  have  a 
beautiful  home,  and  a  farm  of  a  thousand  acres  ;  I  have 


136  UP   FROM   THE  CAPE. 

a  true  wife,  and  four  children  to  whom  I  am  teaching  in 
religion,  in  politics,  in  conduct  of  life,  all  that  you  taught 
me  when  I  was  a  boy. 

You  will  ask  why  I  am  now  writing  from  Kansas 
City.  I  came  here  to  attend  a  political  conference.  It 
may  please  you  to  know  that  I  have  just  been  nomin 
ated  for  congress  from  this  district,  and  I  think  my 
prospects  of  election  are  good,  as  the  people  seem  to 
respect  me,  and  the  republicans  generally  elect  their 
congressmen  by  a  large  majority. 

Do  not  tell  mother  of  my  nomination.  If  I  were  to 
fail  of  the  election  it  would  grieve  her.  She  used  to 
wish  me  to  study  law.  If  I  am  elected  to  congress  it 
will  probably  as  greatly  please  her  as  though  I  had 
become  a  lawyer.  In  the  event  of  my  election  I  will 
write  to  her  and  shall  hope  to  surprise  her ;  so  please 
do  not  let  her  see  this  letter,  or  be  told  of  this  matter  if 
you  can  prevent  it. 

It  is  said  that  children  fulfill  the  ideals  or  desires  of 
their  mothers.  John  seems  likely  to  do  so.  Mother 
wished  him  to  study  for  the  ministry.  Patriotism 
brought  him  here.  He  has  done  well.  He  is  rich; 
better,  he  is  a  man  of  good  influence.  He  has  been  a 
class  leader  for  five  years,  and  has  taken  so  much 
interest  in  the  founding  of  churches  and  schools  in 
destitute  places  that  he  has  just  been  nominated  for 
the  presidency  of  the  Western  Home  Mission  Society, 
which  will  greatly  increase  his  opportunities  for  doing 
good.  His  influence,  were  he  a  minister,  would  hardly 
be  as  great  as  now.  I  think  his  life  does  credit  to  his 
home  teachings.  It  is  such  lives  that  have  made 
Kansas,  Nebraska,  Iowa  and  Minnesota  the  New 
England  of  the  West. 


UP  FROM    THE   CAPE.  137 

Remember  me  to  dear,  faithful  mother.     Whatever 
may  be  my  future,  be  assured  of  my  resolution  to  be 
true  to  my  God,  my  parents,  and  my  country. 
Faithfully  yours, 

HENRY  ENDICOTT. 

"That  letter  does  me  good ;  it  is  more  to  me  than 
will  be  the  fact  of  Henry's  election  ;  to  be  a  true 
man  is  more  than  to  be  a  congressman.  It  makes 
me  feel  that  I  have  not  lived  in  vain,  notwithstand 
ing  the  hard  things  Desire  sometimes  says  to  me. 
But  she  means  well  —  Desire.  Right  living  will 
produce  right  fruit  at  last,  and  her  eyes  will  be 
opened  some  day.  I  can  wait." 

"  But  brother's  letter?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  it  —  I  hope  you  may.  It 
seems  to  me  dreadful." 

BOSTON,  August  2oth. 

JEFFERSON:  —  You  wrote  me  that  you  had  invited 
your  aunt  to  come  to  the  city.  I  wish  thai"  you  would 
return  and  bring  her  with  you.  She  has  strong  good 
sense,  and  is  an  excellent  nurse.  I  want  some  one  of 
strong  will  near  me ;  it  would  help  me. 

I  am  not  well.  The  doctor  says  that  it  was  only  a 
slight  effusion ;  that  it  will  soon  pass  away.  I  can't 
sleep;  I  take  chloral,  but  I  can't  sleep.  My  brain  is 
a-flame.  The  world  is  wild,  and  where  am  I  ?  I  am 
gone,  lost! 

I  shall  be  calmer  to-morrow;  to-night  I  shall  walk, 


138  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

walk !  How  cool  the  air  will  be  when  the  night  comes. 
Darkness!  it  is  cool  in  the  dark.  The  grave  is  dark 
and  cool. 

It  is  the  fever  in  my  brain  that  makes  me  say  these 
things.  I  shall  be  calmer  to-morrow. 

Your  mother  will  remain  at  Newport  late.  I  would 
have  it  so.  The  crash  is  coming;  let  her  enjoy  life 
while  she  can.  Don't  tell  her  I  am  ill.  I  am  not  ill. 
Eugene  is  at  Etretat.  He  only  writes  when  he  wants 
money.  Archie  has  gone  to  Long  Branch  with 
Stanley. 

I  have  not  treated  Desire  as  I  ought,  wife  is  so 
proud  and  peculiar.  You  know  how  it  was. 

I  shall  be  calmer  to-morrow. 

Come  at  once,  my  dear  boy. 

I  suppress  a  thousand  agonies. 

YOUR  FATHER. 

P.  S.  I  was  greatly  excited  when  I  wrote  the  above. 
The  doctor  has  been  here  and  left  me  more  chloral. 
He  says  that  there  is  no  cause  for  alarm.  The  effusion 
is  only  slight.  I  am  calmer  now.  My  business,  —  oh! 
my  affairs  !  But  I  must  not  think  !  Destroy  this.  It 
will  show  you  my  condition  if  anything  were  to  happen. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AUNT'S  FAREWELL  EXHORTATION. 

That  summer  on  the  Cape  was  the  happiest  I 
had  known.  I  think  the  influence  of  it  will 
last  as  long  as  I  live.  I  certainly  hope  that 
Uncle's  influence  may.  He  quietly  taught  me 
that  there  is  something  in  life  better  than  I  had 
known,  a  simple  faith  in  good  that  has  the  pro 
mises  of  development  beyond  this  stage  of  our 
being,  and  this  lesson  I  had  not  as  well  learned  in 
the  city,  with  all  of  its  scholarship  and  social 
advantages. 

Every  thing  charmed  me  until  father's  letter 
brought  a  shadow.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  be  jogged 
along  the  country  roads  in  an  open  carriage. 
Wild  roses  and  morning  glories  line  the  old  stone 
walls  in  summer,  and  white,  feathery  clematis 
and  flaming  golden  rods  in  autumn.  It  is  a 
pleasure  to  have  your  own  boat  and  drift  along  a 
coast  about  which  no  books  or  Boston  letters  have 
been  written  ;  to  feel  that  all  the  delightful 
things  you  discover  are  your  own.  It  is  a 


140  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

pleasure  to  go  strawberrying,  and  blackberrying 
and  whortleberrying,  with  lunch  and  pail,  and  to 
know  that  the  delicious  pies  and  cakes  are  made 
from  your  berries. 

The  haying  season  !  —  the  charm  of  that  haying 
I  shall  never  forget.  What  is  the  cropped  Boston 
Public  Garden  to  ten  acres  of  newly  cut  clover, 
spread  out  like  a  green  sea ;  with  the  dew  dying 
out  of  its  thousand  swaths  ;  with  the  air  heavy 
with  perfume ;  with  an  hundred  robins  and 
thrushes  singing  in  the  locust  trees,  and  bob-o'- 
links  tossing  themselves  about  in  the  sun  ! 

I  had  been  to  church  every  Sunday  during  my 
visit,  and  such  regularity  was  a  new  experience  to 
me.  I  even  took  a  class  in  the  Sunday  school,  a 
work  for  which  I  had  no  qualification  but  uncle's 
good  influence. 

During  the  minister's  vacation  Uncle  took 
charge  of  the  social  meetings,  and  on  such  occa 
sions  I  always  went  with  him. 

"  Eben  is  not  a  powerful  exhorter,"  said  Aunt 
Desire  to  me  one  day  ;  "  you  know  what  husband 
is,  you  know.  Still,"  she  further  informed  me, 
"what  he  says  in  meetin'  is  generally  worth  listen 
ing  to  and  sometimes  it  is  uncommonly  interestin', 
sort  of  impresses  you,  you  know." 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  141 

"Aunt's  exhortations  were  regarded  as  "power 
ful."  They  were  certainly  energetic  and  definitive. 
She  held  to  the  old  methods  and  manners  of  the 
days  of  Jesse  Lee,  and,  as  she  said,  "  she  did  not 
fear  the  face  of  clay." 

The  last  Sabbath  evening  that  I  attended 
church  on  the  Cape,  Uncle  Eben  led,  in  the 
absence  of  the  regular  minister. 

All  of  the  families  in  the  town  were  represented 
in  the  meeting.  It  was  a  bad  night,  but  there 
were  present  ten  people  each  of  whom  had  passed 
three-score  and  ten  years.  I  was  much  impressed 
with  the  opening  hymn,  one  of  the  primitive 
Methodist's  :  — 

"  And  let  this  feeble  body  fail, 
And  let  it  faint  and  die." 

Uncle  read  for  a  Scripture  lesson,  the  Galilean 
parable  of  the  rich  fool,  who  provided  everything 
for  this  life  but  deferred  the  interest  of  his  soul. 
He  illustrated  the  reading  by  a  story,  which 
seemed  to  impress  the  silent  audience.  It  much 
impressed  me.  He  said  :  — 

""There  was  a  young  man  that  I  once  knew, 
who  fell  into  evil  habits,  and  was  made  constantly 
unhappy  by  his  sense  of  wrong-doing  and  the  fear 
of  the  consequences. 


142  UP   FROM   THE   CAPE. 

"  Each  evening  when  left  alone,  he  reflected, 
and  as  often  said,  '  I  will  change  my  course  of 
life  to-morrow.  I  will  to-morrow  begin  a  life  of 
obedience  to  God.' 

"He  would  wait  for  the  morning;  but,  when 
he  arose  and  went  out  into  the  world,  it  was  still 
to-day,  so  his  old  life  went  on. 

"  '  I  will  not  change  my  course  to-day,'  he  said, 
'  I  will  fulfill  my  intention  to-morrow.  I  have 
made  to-morrow  my  reformation  day.' 

"  Time  went  on,  but  it  was  always  to-day.  It 
was  never  the  past  ;  no  day  ever  returned  again, 
and  to-morrow,  the  appointed  day  for  his  change 
of  life,  did  not  come. 

"  He  fell  sick.  At  the  crisis  of  his  disease  he 
promised  to  begin  a  new  life  to-morrow.  The 
next  day  he  was  better,  but  it  was  not  to-rftorrow  ; 
it  was  still  to-day. 

"  His  mother  was  a  God-fearing  woman.  When 
near  death,  she  called  him  to  her,  and  asked  him 
for  her  sake  to  begin  that  life  that  has  the 
promises  of  a  better  life  than  this. 

"  '  I  will  do  all  that  you  ask.  I  have  long  been 
intending  it.' 

"  '  When  will  you  begin  ? ' 

" '  To-morrow.' 


UP    FROM    THE    CAPE.  143 

"  But  when  to-morrow  came,  it  was  still  to-day, 
and  he  did  not  fulfill  his  purpose. 

"The  frosts  of  years  began  to  whiten  his  beard 
and  hair.  Age  was  stealing  on.  Each  night  as 
he  looked  into  the  glass,  he  saw  the  change,  and 
he  hurried  to  his  slumbers  with  the  thought, 
to-morrow  I  must  begin  the  life  that  has  the 
promises  of  heaven. 

"  Old  age  came  at  last.  His  wife  died.  Then 
his  daughter  died  ;  a  lovely  girl.  He  promised 
each  to  begin  a  life  of  preparation  for  a  future 
meeting.  'I  will,'  he  said,  'begin  to-morrow.' 

"  His  life  had  reached  four-score  years,  and  yet 
it  was  always  to-day.  He  fell  sick,  and  the  village 
pastor  told  him  that  he  could  not  live. 

"  '  How  long  shall  I  survive  ? '  he  asked. 

"  'The  doctor  says  you  may  live  until  to-morrow.' 

"  '  That  is  the  day  I  have  long  waited  for,'  he 
said. 

"  In  the  night  he  asked  : 

"  '  What  is  the  clock  ? ' 

"'Eleven.' 

"  Again  he  asked  the  same  question. 

"  'Twelve.' 

"Again. 

"  '  One.' 


144  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

"  '  It  is  still  to-day,  and  there  is  no  to-morrow.' 

"  He  passed  away  in  the  morning,  and  the  hours 
sped  on,  and  for  him  there  was  no  to-morrow, 
when  rose  or  set  the  sun. 

"  Now,  brothers  and  sisters,  the  time  is  yours. 
Speak  as  duty  impels  you." 

"A  number  "testified."  Then  there  was  a 
pause. 

"  Improve  the  time,  brothers  and  sisters,"  said 
Uncle,  reprovingly. 

Aunt  Desire  caught  hold  of  the  back  of  the  seat 
in  front  of  her  and  rose  slowly.  She  took  off  her 
cotton  gloves  and  dropped  them  on  the  seat  and 
turned  around,  and  faced  the  audience.  She  evi 
dently  had  a  burden  on  her  heart,  and  had  made 
up  her  mind  to  do  her  duty,  and  not  to  "  fear  the 
face  of  clay." 

"  My  dear  brothers  and  sisters,  I  feel  just  as  I 
hadn't  ought  to,  and  when  I  feel  just  as  I  hadn't 
ought  to  myself,  I  feel  like  makin'  good  reso 
lutions  to  do  just  as  I  ought  to,  and  exhortin' 
other  people  to  do  as  they  ought  to." 

Uncle  Eben  evidently  did  not  quite  accept  this 
logic.  He  turned  the  leaves  of  the  Bible  ner 
vously,  and  raised  his  spectacles  as  though  won 
dering  what  Desire  would  say  next. 


UP  FROM    THE  CAPE.  145 

"  My  brothers  and  sisters,  I'm  going  away  for  a 
spell  to  leave  ye  ;  I  am  goin'  up  to  Jerusalem  to 
attend  the  Feast  of  the  Tabernacles." 

She  paused.  One  of  the  brethren  said  an  en 
couraging  "  Amen,"  and  presently  she  started  off 
again  in  the  direction  of  her  first  idea. 

"  And  why  don't  ye  do  as  ye  ought  to  ?  When 
you  read  the  Zions  Herald,  and  the  Journal,  and 
the  Transcript,  do  you  ever  compare  the  lively  doin' 
up  to  Boston  with  doin's  down  here  by  the  cold 
streams  of  Babylon  ?  Think  of  the  Lecturship 
where  they  make  clear  to  you  all  the  mysteries  of 
the  world  to  come.  Think  of  the  faith  that  they 
exercise  there,  healin'  all  manner  of-  diseases  and 
takin'  away  the  appetites  of  the  vicious,  and 
workin'  all  the  miracles  of  the  days  of  the  prophets 
and  apostles  of  old.  I  know  that  husband  says 
that  faith  is  not  confined  to  places,  and  we  can 
exercise  it  here  as  well  as  anywhere  else  ;  but  he 
don't  know  everything,  husband  don't,  no  more 
than  I  do.  But  think  of  the  good  those  peculiar 
people  do.  Societies  —  think  of  the  societies  —  O 
you  that  live  on  the  husks  of  the  land  down  here 
by  the  cold  streams  of  Babylon !  —  Societies  for  the 
Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals,  and  Societies  for 
the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Children,  Women's 


146  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

Dress  Reform  Societies,  and  here  I've  got  three 
alpaca  dresses  more  than  I  can  wear,  but  I  mean 
to  reform,  Prisoners  Friend  Societies,  and  societies 
for  sendin'  all  wrong  doin'  people  to  the  country  ; 
societies  for  the  education  of  everybody,  so  that 
everybody  can  be  educated,  and  societies  to  help 
everybody  get  rich,  so  that  they  may  have  money 
to  give  to  the  poor.  Think  of  the  Missionary 
Societies,  and  the  Mutual  Aid  Societies  to  make 
the  widow's  heart  happy  when  her  husband  has 
gone,  and  the  Art  Societies  and  the  Literary  So 
cieties  ;  why,  it  seems  as  though  all  the  people 
must  be  pious,  and  rich,  and  know  near  upon 
everything. 

"  Don't  you  see  how  far  you  come  short  of  your 
duties  and  how  you  live  below  your  privileges  ? 
It  is  true  we  haven't  any  drunkards  to  reform, 
and  no  prisoners  to  help.  I  don't  know  as  there 
are  any  paupers  in  the  town,  or  any  misbehavin' 
people.  But  what  of  that  ?  You  are  not  miracu 
lous,  like  those  Boston  folks." 

A  brother  near  me  groaned. 

"  Farewell,  brothers  and  sisters,  I  am  goin'  up 
to  Jerusalem  to  recuperate  my  faith.  I  am  goin' 
to  see  things  with  my  own  eyes.  I  shall  be  with 
you  in  the  spirit,  and  when  I  return  I  hope  I  shall 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  147 

have  a  tale  to  tell  that  will  bring  joy  and  gladness 
to  all  your  hearts." 

Aunt  sat  down.     She  looked  relieved.     So  did 
uncle. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. A  WALK. AUNT  CALLS 

ON  THE  DOCTORS. 

I  immediately  returned  home,  and  with  feelings 
of  great  anxiety.  I  hurried  from  the  Old  Colony 
Depot  across  the  city  and  Public  Garden.  Father 
himself  answered  my  ring. 

"I  thought  it  was  you,"  he  said,  cheerfully,  lay 
ing  his  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "  I  think  my  letter 
must  have  frightened  you ;  it  was  a  false  alarm. 
The  doctor  says  there  is  no  danger  if  I  can  only 
be  kept  quiet  and  get  sleep.  The  difficulty  is,  I 
do  not  get  any  natural  sleep.  I  am  glad  you  have 
come.  It  will  make  me  more  quiet  to  have  you 
here.  Where  is  your  aunt  and  Carrie  ?  " 

"  They  are  coming  in  the  carriage.  I  took  the 
short  cut  from  the  depot.  You  cannot  tell  how 
relieved  I  am  to  find  you  better.  Your  letter  did 
alarm  me." 

There  was  a  worn,  anxious  look  in  father's  face, 
and  a  strange  light  in  his  eyes.  Something  in  his 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  149 

appearence  made  me  uncertain  about  the  doctor's 
sincerity.  His  cheerful  appearance,  however, 
reassured  me,  and  the  shadow  passed  away. 

He  had  been  accustomed  to  allude  to  Aunt 
Desire  as  "a  character,"  and  his  invitations  to 
Uncle  and  Aunt  had  never  been  very  cordial  or 
pressing :  certainly  not  since  the  death  of  my  own 
mother.  My  step-mother  was  an  amiable  woman, 
but  a  lover  of  society,  and  of  her  own  circle  of 
friends,  and  she  took  no  interest  at  all  in  father's 
country  relations.  Eugene  was  her  favorite  step 
son,  and  he  seldom  spoke  with  much  respect  of 
uncle  and  his  family,  whom  he  called  "  those 
people  down  on  the  Cape." 

But  when  Aunt  arrived  from  the  depot,  he  met 
her  at  the  door  of  the  carriage,  and  the  old  friend 
ship  with  "brother  Eben's  wife,"  was  renewed 
after  an  almost  silence  of  twenty  years. 

Few  things  in  life  ever  gave  me  more  pleasure 
than  that  meeting,  and  the  interview  in  the  parlor 
that  evening.  Father's  mind  on  the  latter  occa 
sion  seemed  to  go  back  to  the  old  farm ;  old 
associations,  traditions  and  stories.  He  talked  of 
the  family  burying-ground,  the  little  church,  and 
Pine  Tree  Hill. 

"  I    was    happy   when   I    was  a  boy,"  said  he ; 


ISO  UP  FROM   THE    CAPE. 

"happier  at  night  by  the  pasture's  bars,  than  I 
have  ever  been  since.  Money  cannot  buy  happi 
ness,  Desire.  Health  is  happiness  ;  hope  is 
happiness ;  sleep  is  happiness.  Did  you  ever 
realize,  sister,  what  a  blessing  it  is  to  be  able  to 
sleep  ?  " 

The  word  "sister"  seemed  to  win  Aunt's  heart 
at  once.  Although  she  had  said  nothing  to  me, 
I  knew  that  she  had  secretly  some  hard  things 
in  memory  to  overlook  and  forgive,  in  our  family. 

"  No,"  said  Aunt,  "  I  never  have  thought  about 
sleep  at  all.  I  just  sleep.  I  should  be  sorry  to 
be  kept  awake." 

The  evening  passed  pleasantly,  but  that  night, 
after  we  had  all  retired  to  our  chambers,  there 
were  mysterious  sounds  in  father's  room,  as 
though  he  was  walking,  walking.  At  midnight, 
I  was  awakened  by  the  same  sound  of  incessant 
steps,  and  again  near  morning. 
-  Father  did  not  leave  his  room  early  in  the  morn 
ing.  When  he  appeared,  he  assured  Aunt  and  I 
that  he  was  better,  but  there  was  a  strange  and 
mysterious  expression  as  of  great  and  resolutely 
controlled  suffering  in  his  face.  I  tried  not  to 
notice  it. 

Aunt  had  not  seen  him  for  years,  and  could  not, 
like  myself,  mark  the  change  by  contrast. 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  151 

We  went  out  to  walk  in  the  morning  —  Aunt 
and  I.  The  Public  Garden  was  flaming  with  asters, 
and  the  air  was  full  of  the  scent  of  the  long,  dark 
beds  of  heliotrope.  The  Beacon  Street  mall  was 
an  arch  of  leaves,  tinted  with  autumn  splendors. 
The  white  swan  and  the  black  swan  were  swim 
ming  in  the  pond,  and  Aunt  was  delighted  with 
the  scene  as  we  passed  from  statue  to  statue. 

Suddenly  she  asked,  "  Where  is  Boylston 
Street  ? " 

"  Right  here,"  said  I.      "  Why  ?  " 

"  The  doctors.  You  know  that  one  reason  why 
I  have  been  wishin'  to  come  up  from  the  Cape  is 
to  see  a  reliable  doctor." 

"  Dr.  Warrenton  lives  there"  said  I.  "  Of  ex 
cellent  reputation.  Experienced." 

"Will  you  call  with  me  ?  " 

"Yes." 

We  found  the  doctor's  rooms  very  antique  and 
hung  with  pictures  not  very  well  calculated  to 
make  one  hopeful  and  happy.  There  was  a  skull 
on  an  old  clock  which  at  once  arrested  Aunt's  eye, 
and  caused  her  to  make  the  rather  embarrassing  re 
mark  that  she  "  supposed  that  it  once  belonged  to 
some  poor  critter  or  other  some  day  or  other." 
The  table  was  full  of  medical  periodicals,  the  con- 


152  UP   FROM   THE   CAPE. 

tents  of  which  were  not  over-cheerful  and  assur 
ing.  There  was  an  open  fire-place  ;  the  light  was 
curtained,  and  Aunt  grew  nervous  while  waiting, 
as  did  I. 

After  a  long  time,  a  tall,  lank,  wrinkled-faced 
man  appeared,  like  the  foreman  of  a  jury  with  the 
verdict. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Madam  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Aunt,  "  I've  almost  forgot. 
That  skull  up  there's  kind  o'  taken  away  my 
recollections.  I've  the  catarrh.  Is  it  danger 
ous  ?  " 

"  I  regard  catarrh  as  consumption  began."  He 
looked  squarely  at  Aunt  like  a  statue. 

"You  don't,  though." 

"  Let  me  look  at  your  throat." 

Aunt  opened  her  mouth  \vith  the  expression  of 
a  client  waiting  for  the  verdict. 

"  Congested.  If  that  congestion  was  a  little 
lower  down  you  would  not  live  two  years,"  he 
added. 

"  How  long  have  you  had  the  catarrh  ? " 

"  Fifty  years." 

"Humph  !  and  living  yet." 

"Jeff,  let  us  go.  I  don't  feel  well.  I  always 
told  Eben  that  I  was  not  well.  I  been  in  con- 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  153 

sumption  fifty  years  !  Well,  it  is  a  blessin'  that  I 
did  not  know  it." 

"  How  much  is  to  pay,  doctor  ?  " 

"  Five  dollars  for  the  examination," 

Aunt  paid  the  tribute  due  to  knowledge  and 
experience. 

"Jeff,  I  feel  awful.  I  always  thought  I  was 
consumptive.  Let  us  consult  the  next  doctor  in 
the  row." 

He  was  a  middle-aged,  quiet-looking  gentleman. 
His  apartment  had  a  very  conservative  appearance. 

Aunt  stated  her  case  in  an  anxious  voice. 

"The  condition  of  which  you  speak,"  said  he, 
"is  not  an  uncommon  one.  In  some  cases  it 
tends  to  serious  disease ;  in  others  it  prevents 
more  serious  disease  :  all  depends  upon  the  consti 
tution.  Whether  it  be  a  grave  matter  with  you  or 
not  depends  upon  your  constitution." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Aunt,  in  a  tone  of  relief; 
"  how  much  is  to  pay  ?  " 

"Five  dollars." 

"I'm  not  quite  so  bad  off  as  I  thought  I  was. 
It  all  depends,  you  see.  I  hope  it  is  not  a  grave 
matter  with  me,  yet.  Let  us  make  one  more  call. 
Here,  let  us  go  in  here,  and  hear  what  Jie  says." 

The  next  doctor  was  fat  and  jolly.     His  room 


154  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

was  full  of  landscape  pictures,  ornaments,  vases  of 
flowers. 

"What  is  your  disease,  madame  ?  " 

"  Consumption." 

"  How  long  have  you  had  it  ?  " 

"  Fifty  years." 

"  Fifty  years  ;  let  me  examine  your  lungs.  No, 
I  need  not  do  that.  I  never  knew  any  one  who 
had  a  pulse  like  yours  to  have  any  tendency  to 
consumption." 

"Well,  I've  got  the  catarrh  !  " 

"  Most  people  have  in  this  climate  ;  I  look  upon 
that  disease  as  consumption  prevented ;  acts  as  a 
sort  of  an  issue  ;  relieves  the  system.  I've  always 
noticed  that  catarrhal  patients  were  very  long 
lived,  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  lived  to  be 
ninety,  or  more,  and  died  of  old  age.  When  the 
tendency  towards  disease  takes  the  form  of  catarrh, 
there's  no  telling  how  long  a  person  may  live." 

"Jeff,  I  feel  better.     Don't  I  look  better?" 

"  How  much  is  to  pay,  Docter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing ;  nothing  ails  you.  Fine  day ; 
Public  Garden  looks  splendid." 

"Jeff,  I  am  glad  to  be  in  the  open  air  again. 
How  beautiful  the  world  looks  !  I  like  that  doctor, 
don't  you  ?  How  well  I  feel ;  come  to  think 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  155 

of  it,  the  opinions  of  these  two  doctors  are 
almost  exactly  like  those  of  old  Doctor  Black 
and  Doctor  White  down  on  the  Cape.  Strange, 
now  isn't  it  ?" 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

DESIRE    CALLS    UPON    SUNDRY  EDITORS   AND    INTRO 
DUCES    TO     THEM    THE    PASTORAL    POEMS    OF 
MISS    FLORA    PINK. 

"  Carrie,  sit  down  a  few  moments,  and  let  me 
tell  you  how  I  have  been  treated,  here  in  Boston, 
too.  I  am  disappointed  in  Boston  editors.  They 
are  not  the  men  I  thought  they  were. 

"  Blanche  Hale  spent  a  few  weeks  at  our  house, 
some  ten  years  ago,  or  more.  She  used  to  write 
for  the  magazines,  and  especially  for  the  Atlantic 
MontJily.  I  asked  her  one  day  how  she  sent  her 
contributions  to  the  editor  of  the  Atlantic.  She 
said  that  her  uncle,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Powers,  took 
her  first  articles  to  Mr.  Fields,  and  that  Mr. 
Fields  examined  them,  and  accepted  them,  and 
invited  her  to  call  at  the  contributors'  room. 

"  You  should  have  heard  her  describe  that 
contributors'  room  :  Full  of  pictures,  statues,  and 
fine  furniture,  and  free  at  all  hours  of  the  day  to 
all  who  wrote  for  the  magazine.  When  a  person 


UP    FROM    THE    CAPE.  157 

called  with  articles,  he  had  only  to  send  his  card 
to  Mr.  Fields,  who  received  him  with  bows  and 
smiles,  and  paid  him  $200.  A  very  '  gracious ' 
man  was  Mr.  Fields,  so  Blanche  said  ;  he  had  a 
generous  and  unselfish  appreciation  for  everything 
good  in  a  manuscript,  and  a  helpful  criticism  for 
what  was  defective.  That  is  the  way  Blanche 
expressed  herself. 

"Well,  what  Blanche  said  about  the  contribu 
tors'  room  and  '  gracious  '  Mr.  Fields,  and  about 
his  '  generous  and  unselfish  appreciation,'  and 
'helpful  criticism,'  impressed  itself  upon  my  mind 
like  a  picture.  I  thought  if  I  took  the  poems 
of  that  poor,  unfortunate  girl,  Flora  Pink,  to 
any  editor's  office,  that  I  would  be  shown  to 
the  contributors'  room,  which  would  be  full  of 
pictures,  statues,  and  fine  furniture,  and  that 
some  gracious  man  like  Mr.  Fields  would  come 
bowing  in,  read  the  poetry,  and  give  me  a  check 
for  $200.  Flora  needs  the  money  so  much,  too. 

"  So  I  put  a  dozen  or  two  of  Flora's  poems  into 
my  travellin'-bag,  and  made  my  way  slowly  in  the 
direction  of  the  Old  South  Church  and  Old  State 
House,  a  way  in  which  formerly  all  good  people 
used  to  walk.  I  came  to  the  office  of  a  paper  that 
I  knew  published  poetry,  and  went  in.  There 


158  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

was  a  fine-looking  old  gentleman  behind  the 
counter. 

"  I  walked  up  to  him  with  an  air  of  confidence. 

"  '  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  where  the  contribu 
tors'  room  is  ? '  said  I. 

"  '  Compositors'  room  ? '  said  he. 

"'The  room  where  they  entertain  ladies  who 
bring  valuable  contributions  to  the  paper/  said  I. 

"  '  Oh,  the  editor's  room.  Next  door ;  up  four 
flights.' 

"  I  mounted  the  four  flights  of  stairs  ;  it  was  a 
long  climb,  but  I  do  not  mind  hardships  when  I 
think  I  am  carryin'  happiness  with  me  to  another, 
much  less  when  I  am  on  a  mission  with  the 
productions  of  genius  for  the  consolation  of  the 
world. 

"  At  the  head  of  the  fourth  flight  were  the 
editors'  rooms,  marked  private,  but  I  walked  right 
in,  and  findin'  an  empty  chair,  sat  down,  a  little 
out  of  breath.  A  very  fine-lookin'  man  was 
writin'  at  a  quiet,  sunny  desk.  He  did  noL 
look  up. 

"  '  Hem,  hem,'  said  I. 

"  But  he  did  not  turn  his  head. 

"  Then  I  proceeded  to  open  my  bag,  and  to  take 
out  Flora's  poems,  and  look  them  over.  I  put 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  159 

those  on  '  Spring '  in  one  parcel,  and  those  on 
'Autumn'  in  another;  and  those  on  'Disappointed 
Hopes,'  in  another. 

"  '  Hem  !  Hem  ! '  says  I. 

"At  that  the  intellectual  lookin'  man's  pen 
seemed  to  fly  faster  than  ever,  and  he  looked  as 
though  all  the  world  was  outside  of  his  own 
brain,  and  he  wished  it  to  remain  so. 

"  'Are  you  the  editor  ?'  asked  I. 

"He  looked  up,  very  pleasantly. 

" '  How  do  you  do,  madam  ?  I  beg  pardon, 
madam.  I  was  very  much  engaged.' 

"'Oh,  I'm  in  no  hurry,'  said  I,  'time  isn't  any 
thing  to  me,  just  now,  I'm  visitin'  in  the  city.  Is 
this  the  contributors'  room  ? ' 

"  'We  have  no  contributors'  room,'  said  he. 
'  What  do  you  wish,  madam  ? ' 

"  'I  have  here  some  poems  that  it  will  do  your 
heart  good  to  read.  And  a  poorer  girl  than  her 
who  wrote  them  don't  live  down  on  the  Cape. 
Here  are  ten  poems  on  "spring"  and  ten  on 
"autumn."  I  wish  you  would  just  read  'em 
and  see  what  a  genius  that  girl  is ;  and  so  poor, 
too.' 

"  '  But  time  is  precious,'  said  he. 

"  'Oh,  I'm  in  no  hurry,'  said  I.     '  I  haven't  any- 


160  UP   FRO  .If   THE   CAPE. 

thing  in  particular  to  do.  I'm  only  visitin'  in  the 
city.' 

"  '  But  they  are  waiting  for  copy  in  the  compos 
ing-room,'  said  he. 

"  '  O,  well,  never  mind,  I  can  wait.  I  feel  quite 
composed  myself.  Time  is  nothin'  to  me  when  I 
am  visitin'.' 

"  '  If  you  will  leave  one  or  two  of  your  best 
contributions,  madam,'  said  he,  'I  will  look  them 
over  as  soon  as  I  find  time,  and  I  will  send  you  an 
answer  by  mail.  Just  put  your  address  upon 
them.' 

"'How  would  this  do? '  said  I. 

"  I  began  to  read  an  affecting  ballad  called  the 
'  Two  Orphans ' : 

"  Two  orphan  children  once  there  was, 
And  why  there  was,  was  many  a  cause." 

'"Kind  of  mysterious,'  said  I  ;  'like  Emerson. 
"Once  there  was,"  that  don't  seem  quite  right.' 

"  A  very  distressed  look  came  over  his  pleasant 
face.  Then  a  boy  came  rushin'  in,  without  any 
introduction. 

" '  The  foreman  wants  the  copy  for  the  sixth 
page  ;  all  out  of  copy ;  waiting.  Go  to  press  an 
hour  earlier  this  afternoon.' 


UP  FROM   THE    CAPE.  l6l 

"The  boy  flew  out  of  the  room. 

"  '  Two  orphan  children  once  there  was,' 

read   I.      Guess  I'll  alter  that,  '  Once  there  were.' 
Have  you  a  pencil  ?  ' 

"  '  I  am  very  busy,  madam,  this  morning.  Please 
leave  your  contribution  on  the  desk.' 

"'I'm  in  no  hurry,  but  since  it  will  be  a  con 
venience  to  you  I'll  leave  it.  Just  send  the  money 
to  that  tJiere  place  ;  I'm  visitin'  there.  And  re 
member  that  Flora  is  very  poor.  A  poorer  girl 
can't  be  found  on  the  Cape.  She  needs  just  as 
much  as  you  can  pay.  I'm  sorry  you  are  in  a 
hurry  this  mornin' ;  I'm  in  no  hurry.  Just  as  well 
stay  as  not.  Good-bye.' 

"  I  left  two  poems.  But  after  I  got  upon  the 
stairs,  I  chanced  to  think  that  I  had  not  made  the 
correction,  so  I  went  back." 

"  'Will  you  allow  me  just  to  correct  that  gram 
mar  ? '  said  I. 

" '  I  will  correct  it  if  I  accept  the  poem,'  said 
the  intellectual  lookin'  man. 

"'Change  "once  there  was,"  to  "once  there 
were  ? " 

"'Yes',  said  he,    'any  way.' 

"  '  Good  by,'  said  I. 
6 


1 62  UP  FROAf   THE   CAPE. 

'"Good  by.' 

"  When  I  got  out  on  the  stairs  again,  a  thought 
came  to  me  like  a  thunder  clap.  If  that  editor 
were  to  change  '  once  there  was'  to  '  once  there 
were'  then  the  rhyme  wouldn't  come  right. 

'  Why  there  was,  was  many  a  cause.' 

"  I  turned  round,  and  hurried  back.  The  door 
of  the  editor's  room  stuck  ;  I  couldn't  open  it.  I 
tried  and  tried,  but  it  just  stuck.  So  I  came 
away. 

"  I  went  to  the  office  of  our  religious  paper.  I 
found  a  lovely  contributors'  room  there,  carpeted, 
with  pictures,  book-cases  and  flowers.  It  was  sur 
rounded  by  little  rooms  where  men  were  writin'. 
The  rooms  looked  very  pleasant,  but  the  people  all 
had  occupied  expressions  on  their  faces,  or  a  far 
away  appearance,  such  as  some  folks  have  when 
the  contribution-box  comes  round. 

"  I  went  into  one  of  the  rooms. 

"  '  Be  you  the  editor  ? '  asked  I  of  a  man  readin' 
a  paper  that  was  printed  only  on  one  side. 

"  '  I  am  one  of  the  staff.' 

"  '  I  have  brought  you  some  poems  on  "Spring," 
written  by  Flora  Pink.  Flora  is  very  poor. 
She  —  ' 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  163 

"  '  Excuse  me,  madame.  This  is  a  busy  day.  I 
am  reading  proof.  If  you  will  leave  your  articles, 
they  will  be  given  to  the  manuscript  reader.' 

"  '  Flora  is  very  poor.' 

"  '  Yes,  madame,  but  we  accept  articles  on  their 
merits.  It  is  our  duty  to  give  our  readers  the  best 
material  we  can  secure  ;  the  poverty  of  the  author 
cannot  influence  us  in  this  thing  ;  that  is  a  matter 
for  charity,  and  our  duties  to  the  public  and  our 
duties  to  charity  are  distinct  things.  Do  you 
see  ? ' 

"'The  distinction  is  a  fine  one,  as  husband 
would  say,  But  let  me  read  you  one  of  Flora's 
productions,  and  you  will  find  that  your  duty 
to  the  public  and  to  charity  lie  in  the  same 
direction.' 

"  I  took  out  Flora's  '  Apostrophe  to  Winter.' 
'  Apostrophe '  seemed  such  an  earthquake  kind  of 
a  word  that  I  knew  it  would  command  attention 
to  what  followed.  It  did.  I  began  to  read :  — 

'  How  cold  is  he,  how  icy  cold, 
As  makes  us  shiver  shakes  untold.' 

'"Here  is  another,'  said  I,  'entitled  "The  Battle 
Field  Soldiers,"  suitable  for  the  Fourth  of  July,  or 
any  patriotic  day  — 


1 64  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

"We  poor  soldiers  of  the  battle, 
Have  to  stand  and  hear  the  cannon  rattle." 

"Just  then  a  voice  was  whistled  right  out  of  the 
wall,  '  Is  the  proof  ready  ? '  'I  beg  your  pardon, 
madam/  said  the  gentleman.  '  I  must  go  to  the 
Library  at  once.  Leave  your  articles.  They  will 
receive  attention  soon  after  you  are  gone.  Please 
leave  a  card  with  them.'  So  I  left  ten  poems  there 
with  your  card  and  came  away. 

"Next  I  went  to  the  office  of  the  Youth 's  Instruc 
tor.  The  editors'  rooms  are  most  unsocially  high 
up  there  ;  it  was  like  climbing  to  the  top  of 
Bunker  Hill  monument. 

"I  knocked.  There  was  a  dead  silence.  Then  I 
knocked  again.  The  door  was  opened  by  a  young 
ish  man  with  a  very  inquiring  look  in  his  face. 
He  offered  me  a  chair,  and  I  opened  my  bag.  He 
looked  as  though  he  was  used  to  receiving 
contributors.  There  was  a  sort  of  polite,  good- 
humored,  easy  despair  about  him,  that  must  have 
been  the  result  of  long  experience. 

"  I  asked  him  if  he  was  the  editor.  He  said 
that  he  was  one  of  the  assistants,  and  acted  for  the 
editor  when  contributors  called. 

"I  then  told  him  Flora's  story.  He  did  not 
seem  to  be  greatly  affected,  but  heard  me  in  a 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  165 

quiet,  respectful  way,  as  though  he  had  heard  of 
such  cases  before. 

"  '  If  you  will  write  your  address  on  the  articles 
and  leave  them,'  said  he,  '  they  will  receive  atten 
tion  at  once.  Here  is  a  circular  explaining  our 
rules  in  regard  to  contributions.' 

"  '  I  will  take  the  circular  and  read  it.'  " 

"  Here  is  a  letter  for  you,   Mrs.  Endicott." 
"A  letter!     I  hope  husband  isn't  sick  or  noth 
ing.     Why,  why  ;  its  that  — 

'Two  orphan  children  once  there  was.' 

"  Where's  the  check  ?  No  check,  no  note,  no 
nothin'.  Poor  Flora." 

"  Here's  a  package  a  boy  left  for  you,  Mrs. 
Endicott." 

"  Why,  why  ;  it's  that  '  Shiver  Shakes  Untold  ' 
piece,  and  all  the  rest  of  them.  How  did  it  get 
here  so  soon  ?  Got  back  almost  as  soon  as  I  did. 
How  wonderful  !  What  Will  Flora  say  ?  " 

"  Let  me  get  that  printed  circular.  How  does 
it  read  ? " 

"Articles  accepted  are  paid  for.  Those  not  accepted  are 
returned  to  their  authors,  if  stamps  are  sent  or  left  with  the 
manuscripts  for  the  payment  of  postage.  Declined  manu 
scripts,  not  accompanied  by  post-office  stamps,  will  not  be 
returned." 


1 66  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  " 
"  Did  you  leave  stamps  ?  " 
"No." 

"  Then  it  means  that  you  will  never  hear  from 
those  poems  again." 
"  But  I'll  call  again." 
"  Will  you  —  what  does  that  say  ?  " 

"  Articles  should  be  sent  by  mail,  and  not  left  at  the  edi 
torial  office.  The  time  of  the  editors  cannot  be  given  to 
personal  interviews  with  writers,  nor  ought  personal  influ 
ence  to  be  brought  upon  them  by  those  seeking  the  accept 
ance  of  articles." 

"  Well,  I  never  !     It  makes  me  hold  my  breath." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

NOVEMBER. 

Father  did  not  improve.  He  grew  weak  in 
body,  and  seemed  to  lose  mental  control  whenever 
he  was  excited.  He  could  get  little  rest  except 
under  the  influence  of  chloral ;  he  was  forming 
the  chloral  habit,  and  the  daily  reaction  against 
the  nightly  drug  was  painful  and  pitiful  to  see. 

My  step-mother  returned  from  Newport,  and 
was  greatly  surprised  and  alarmed  to  find  father 
so  changed  in  appearance.  Archie  came  back  in 
time  for  the  opening  of  the  fall  session  of  the 
schools,  and  we  received  a  letter  from  Eugene, 
saying  that  he  would  return  in  November. 

A  peculiarity  of  father's  condition  was  his 
intense  likes  and  dislikes.  He  was  governed 
wholly  by  his  feelings,  and  yielded  to  his  impulses 
without  the  exercise  of  reason.  There  were  mem 
bers  of  the  family  and  several  intimate  friends 
whom  he  constantly  shunned,  and  that  without 
apparent  reason.  He  liked  to  have  aunt  near 


1 68  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

him  constantly,  and  her  power  to  quiet  him  in  his 
excitable  moods  was  greater  than  any  other's. 

He  made  me  his  companion.  He  seemed  to 
desire  my  constant  attention ;  always  liked  to 
have  me  doing  something  that  expressed  my 
sympathy  for  him.  If  I  were  absent,  he  fre 
quently  inquired  for  me,  and  was  restless  until  I 
returned. 

We  rode  together  ofi  the  beautiful  October 
afternoons,  in  the  bright  suburbs  of  Brookline, 
among  the  villas  of  West  Roxbury,  over  Milton 
Hill,  by  the  Charles,  among  the  Blue  Hills,  to  the 
Newtons. 

I  gave  nearly  my  whole  time  to  him.  If  I 
proposed  going  anywhere  by  myself  he  would  say, 
hopelessly  :  — 

"  Do  not  leave  me,  Jefferson,  it  will  not  be 
long." 

These  were  sad  days.  They  went  on  and  on 
through  the  mid-autumn  but  brought  no  change. 
The  trees  of  the  Common  turned  to  golden  ashes, 
rustled  and  fell.  The  calm  splendors  of  the  Octo 
ber  weather  passed ;  the  November  winds  came, 
and  the  Indian  summer  brought  the  last  passing 
brightness  of  the  year,  but  still  no  change. 

Aunt  wished  to  return  to  the  Cape.     Her  sug- 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  169 

gestion  of  it   made  father  worse,  and  the   doctor 
urged  her  to  stay  until  winter. 

"  Everything  depends  upon  mental  quiet,"  said 
the  doctor.  "  He  must  not  be  crossed  in  any 
thing.  To  oppose  his  will  might  prove  suddenly 
fatal." 

He  wished  Uncle  Eben  to  visit  him,  and  a 
letter  was  sent  inviting  and  urging  him  to  come. 
Uncle  replied,  promising*  to  do  so  as  soon  as  the 
fall  work  of  the  farm  could  be  left  to  other  hands. 

He  came  in  Indian  summer.  Father  was  im 
mediately  better  on  meeting  Uncle  ;  his  spirits 
revived  ;  the  two  talked  of  old  days  and  their  early 
associations,  and  father  seemed  to  live  again  in 
the  years  long  passed.  The  doctor  spoke  hope 
fully.  The  cloud  seemed  passing.  How  I  longed 
for  the  old  home  calm  again  —  after  the  fever. 

Aunt  and  I  went  out  much  together,  now  that 
uncle  had  come.  We  were  cheerful  again,  for  the 
doctor  said  that  father  would  soon  be  better.  In 
our  lives  was  an  Indian  summer  weather. 

Aunt  one  day  made  the  call  that  she  had  prom 
ised   herself  on  the  Cape,  on   Richard  Follett  — 
Hon.  Richard  Follett  —  Dick  Follett  of  the  Cape. 

He  had  been  a  poor  boy,  but  by  great,  persist 
ent  Yankee  shrewdness  and  energy,  had  become 


I/O  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

rich.  He  was  one  of  the  many  farmers'  boys  of 
the  Cape,  who  had  brought  to  a  city  experience, 
the  force  of  right  early  training,  good  health,  a 
clear  mind  and  an  active  ambition,  and  had  pros 
pered.  After  his  first  business  successes  he  had 
made  it  his  untiring  purpose  of  life  to  acquire 
wealth.  His  aims  turned  into  gold. 

His  house  in  the  suburbs  was  imposing  —  a  col 
onial  mansion  in  a  broad  lawn,  surrounded  by  fine 
specimens  of  landscape  gardening,  and  grand  old 
trees.  It  showed  that  his  love  of  country  life  had 
not  changed.  The  estate  was  like  a  park  in  the 
thickly-peopled  streets. 

We  rode  into  the  grounds.  Though  late  in  the 
season,  a  fountain  was  playing,  and  the  carefully 
guarded  flower-beds  were  still  in  bloom. 

A  group  of  polite  children  followed  the  servant 
to  meet  us  at  the  carriage,  expecting  to  welcome 
some  well-known  friend. 

We  were  cordially  received  by  Mrs.  Follett,  who 
had  heard  her  husband  speak  of  Aunt,  and  she 
introduced  her  cheerfully  to  her  children.  She 
was  a  very  gracious  lady  ;  one  of  those  whose 
spirit  is  the  light  of  home. 

But  when  Aunt  asked  to  see  "  Richard,"  her 
face  and  manner  changed.  She  looked  troubled, 
and  was  for  a  few  minutes  silent. 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  I/I 

"  Have  you  not  heard  ?  said  she. 

"Husband  has  not  been  well  of  late.  Incessant 
care,  those  business  cares  that  leave  one  no 
time  for  recreation,  you  must  understand,  Mrs. 
Endicott,  broke  down  his  nervous  system,  and  for 
the  last  two  years  he  has  not  been  able  to  enjoy 
the  results  of  his  business  efforts.  It  is  very  sad. 
I  would  be  glad  to  have  you  meet  him,  Mrs.  Endi 
cott,  but  it  would  not  be  well.  He  seldom  sees 
his  own  children.  His  case  is  a  very  peculiar  one. 
He  is  very  low-spirited  ;  a  very  peculiar  case.  I 
do  not  always  feel  quite  free  to  speak  of  it.  I 
only  do  so  to  his  old  friends." 

"  He  is  surrounded  with  everything  to  make 
one  happy,"  said  Aunt.  "  He  has  wealth  and 
honors,  a  beautiful  home  and  lovely  children.  I 
am  sorry  that  he  cannot  enjoy  life.  What  form 
does  his  melancholy  take  ?  " 

"We  seldom  speak  of  it,"  she  reiterated  hesitat 
ingly,  "you  will  think  it  very  strange,  but  he  con 
stantly  imagines  that  we  are  poor  and  shall  come 
to  want." 

We  rode  away  from  the  grand  old  estate  of  the 
over-worked  man. 

Aunt  remarked  thoughtfully  on  the  way  home  :— 

"  Eben  has  right  views  about  some  things,  hasn't 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

he,  Jefferson  ?  Ambition  is  a  good  thing,  but  it 
is  something  to  be  contented,  and  to  do  one's  daily 
duties  as  they  come  to  you,  and  to  live  for  the 
longer  life  that  follows  this.  Taxed  for  a  million, 
yet  thinks  he  is  comin'  to  want.  Does  not  have 
the  society  of  his  own  children.  Poor  Richard  : 
there  are  men  who  are  richer  in  happiness  in 
their  cottages  on  the  Cape. 

"The  fact  is,  Jefferson,"  she  added,  "it  takes  a 
great  deal  of  livin'  and  experience  to  understand 
life.  We  read  the  book  backwards,  many  of  us 
do.  It  is  well  to  take  time  in  life  to  stop  and 
think." 

I  think  Aunt  is  right.  It  takes  much  experi 
ence  to  understand  life,  and  too  many  read  the 
book  backwards. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

EUGENE  RETURNS  FROM  ETRETAT. 

Eugene  has  returned  from  Etretat.  He  is  not 
pleased  to  find  Uncle  and  Aunt  here,  and  has  gone 
to  stay  at  the  Club  until  those  "  wulgar,  wagabond- 
ish  people,"  as  he  expresses  it,  "go"  back  to  the 
Cape.  Father  did  not  meet  Eugene  very  cordially, 
and  I  am  sure  Uncle  and  Aunt  do  not  quite  like 
him,  although  I  heard  Aunt  say : 

"  Eben,  just  see  what  your  boys  might  have 
been  ! " 

Eben  shook  his  head  in  silence.  He  evidently 
would  not  have  been  pleased  to  have  had  one  of 
his  "boys"  return  home  dressed  like  Eugene  and 
seemingly  only  ambitious  to  imitate  the  habits  of 
the  sons  of  decaying  families  he  had  met  abroad. 

Eugene  has  "lost  his  interest  in  America." 
So  he  says.  He  is  interested  chiefly  in  English 
Tory  politics,  and  regrets  the  fall  of  Beaconsfield. 
He  has  become  a  Ritualist,  and  regards  the 
"  Oxford  movement "  as  "  the  beginning  of  a  holy 
pilgrimage  back  to  Rome." 


174  UP  FROM   THE  CAPE. 

He  condemns  our  free  school  system.  He  has 
received  new  light  on  many  social  problems. 

"  The  education  of  the  children  of  the  poor  is 
all  a  meestake,"  he  said  yesterday,  in  Uncle's  hear 
ing.  "  It  makes  them  discontented.  It  gives 
them  an  ambition  to  rise  above  the  callings  in 
which  —  aw  —  they  are  most  useful.  One  has  to 
live  abroad  in  order  to  see  how  great  a  meestake 
it  is." 

Uncle  colored.  The  toe  of  his  boot  moved 
back  and  forth  under  the  easy  chair  like  a  shuttle. 
He  did  not  reply. 

Eugene  has  become  an  admirer  of  the  new 
school  of  art.  He  condemns  melody  in  music,  and 
color  in  painting.  "Melody  and  color,"  he  says, 
"  are  the  delights  of  the  wulgar." 

"  I  always  thought,"  said  Uncle,  "that  the  prose 
of  music  was  merely  used  to  heighten  the  effect  of 
the  poetry,  or  melody  —  and  that  melody  was  the 
true  music  of  the  sentiments.  So  in  painting, 
as  in  nature.  I  have  supposed  that  low  tones, 
mutual  tints,  shades,  were  contrasts  to  heighten 
the  effect  of  color.  I  fail  to  see  why  in  art  the 
lower  should  be  made  to  take  the  place  of  the 
higher,  or  the  less  put  for  the  greater." 

"It  is  not  possible  to  discuss  art  except  with 


UP   FROM   THE  CAPE.  1/5 

people  who  are  trained  to  art,  and  belong  to  its 
inner  circles.  Reason  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
matter  at  all.  Reason  is  for  the  multitude  ;  art  is 
for  the  few.  The  common  mind  cannot  under 
stand.  This  is  why  so  few  comprehend  the  relig 
ion  of  art :  I  mean  symbols.  All  outward  relig 
ion  is  a  majestic  symbolism."  He  added  :  - 

"We  need  in  this  country  great  masters  to 
build  grand  temples  like  those  of  the  old  world,  and 
fill  them  with  symbols  by  which  truth  is  prefigured. 
Then  we  shall  not  be  ashamed  of  our  name. 
Boston  would  be,  indeed,  St.  Botolph's,  and  New 
York  worthy  of  the  duke  whose  name  she  bears." 

"You  may  be  right,"  said  Uncle  Eben,  in  a 
restrained  tone.  "  But  I  do  not  so  read  history 
In  the  Rome  of  art  the  Coliseum  grew  and  crim 
soned  with  human  blood  ;  in  the  Athens  of  art  the 
strength  of  Greece  wasted  and  decayed.  Israel, 
under  the  judges,  was  stronger  than  amid  the 
splendors  of  the  reign  of  Solomon ;  and  the  Rome 
of  the  Republic,  than  the  Rome  of  the  emperors 
in  all  their  gold  and  purple.  Art  does  not  change 
character.  It  is  another  power  which  does  that. 
As  a  servant  of  good,  art  is  noble  ;  of  evil,  despic 
able.  Art,  as  art,  is  nothing  at  all." 

Eugene  touched  upon  politics. 


1/6  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

"  What  we  need,"  he  says.  "  is  a  grand  consti 
tutional  monarchy,  with  titled  families  trained  to 
government,  under  whose  gracious  influence  the 
higher  arts  would  flourish,  and  the  aesthetic  aspects 
of  religion  grace  our  cities  and  glorify  our  national 
name." 

"  I  don't  think  I  agree  with  him,"  said  Aunt,  in 
an  undertone,  "  but  it  is  fine  to  hear  a  young  man 
talk  like  that.  It  shows  that  he  is  an  original 
thinker,  and  has  spirit.  I  wish  our  boys  could 
have  had  some  of  the  advantages  of  modern 
culture  —  not  have  just  gone  out  West  to  fight 
the  'border  rufHans, '  in  old  Jim  Buchanan's 
days." 

"The  renascent  days  are  coming,"  continued 
Eugene.  He  twirled  his  moustache,  twirled  his 
cane,  and  walked  into  the  hall. 

"  The  renascent  days  do  seem  to  be  on  their 
way,"  said  Uncle  to  me.  "After  Cromwell  came 
Charles  II.  When  young  men  cease  to  vote  ;  when 
the  church  bestows  more  thought  on  what  pleases 
the  eye  and  the  ear,  than  upon  inward  life ;  wrhen 
faith  in  good  declines,  and  saloons  multiply  ;  when 
art  is  put  for  virtue,  the  renascent  days  will  come, 
and  a  period  like  that  of  the  Merry  Monarch  will 
follow  the  age  of  the  Hamptons  and  Miltons." 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  177 

Uncle  looked  troubled.  I  could  see  that  he  had 
taken  a  positive  dislike  to  Eugene,  and  that  each 
had  a  sort  of  inward  contempt  for  the  opinions  of 
the  other. 

Eugene  came  ambling  in  from,  the  hall. 

"  Etretat  was  such  a  swell  place.  There  was 
at  one  time  the  families  of  a  dozen  noblemen 
there,  and  the  young  men  were  such  swells ! 
There  is  nothing  on  earth  that  I  so  much  admire 
as  fine  young  English  gentlemen." 

"  Except  of  course,  a  fine  young  American  gen 
tleman,"  said  uncle.  "  Of  the  old  school,  I  mean. 
Such  as  you  often  meet  at  your  club,  do  you  not  ? 
A  young  man  with  the  principles  and  bearing  of 
Sir  Henry  Vane  ?  " 

"  So  you  seem  to  think  that  the  young  Ameri 
can  gentleman  of  the  old  school  made  a  finer 
figure  in  society,  than  we  of  to-day  ? " 

"  He  was  certainly  stronger  in  politics,  in  the 
church,  and  in  manly  independence  of  character. 
He  was  not  less  cultivated  or  courteous.  For 
example,  let  me  illustrate  : " 

I  felt  that  uncle  was  about  to  give  Eugene  a 
democratic  lesson  that  would  be  clear,  and  that  it 
would  somehow  have  reference  to  the  Duke  of 
York. 


178  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

He  continued  : — 

"  The  somewhat  recent  Penn  celebration  in 
Philadelphia,  brought  distinctly  into  view  the 
character  of  the  founder  of  Pennsylvania.  It 
was  the  character  of  William  Penn  that  schooled 
the  Province,  and  that  has  made  the  history  of 
Pennsylvania  exceptionally  noble  and  honorable. 
Penn's  hand  sowed  the  seed  that  blossoms  in  the 
prosperous  towns  and  communities  on  the  banks 
of  the  Schuylkill  and  the  Susquehanna,  in  the 
great  industries  of  Harrisburg  and  Pittsburg,  and 
in  the  conscientiously  used  wealth  and  culture  of 
Philadelphia. 

"  He  had  been  shocked  at  Christ  College  at  the 
irreligion  and  immorality  that  everywhere  pre 
vailed.  The  gay  court  of  Charles  was  poisoning 
all  the  higher  circles  of  society,  and  especially  the 
literary  institutions.  The  Church  bowed  obsequi 
ously  before  statesmen  of  most  corrupt  character. 
An  age  of  wit,  license,  insincere  politeness,  and 
enervating  pleasures  followed  the  stern  rule  of 
Cromwell  :  the  age  of  the  Cavaliers. 

"There  were  not  wanting  strong-minded  men, 
who  protested  against  these  tendencies  to  moral 
decay.  Among  them  were  the  Quakers.  A  few 
students  at  Christ  Church  College  were  among 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  l?g 

the  protestants,  and  foremost  among  these 
students  was  the  handsome  youth,  William 
Penn. 

"  He  cloistered  his  serene  intellect  amid  the 
gayeties  around  him,  and  studied  the  lives  of  good 
men,  and  stored  his  memory  with  the  golden 
thoughts  of  good  books.  He  found  his  conscience 
at  war  with  the  brilliant  court  that  his  father, 
Admiral  Penn,  delighted  to  honor.  He  felt  that 
an  age  of  darkness  had  come,  and  the  young  com 
moner  began  to  dream  of  a  Christian  democracy, 
founded  on  right  principles,  that  should  practice 
the  virtues  of  self  government  in  a  new  land.  Out 
of  this  dream  came  the  province  and  state  of 
Pennsylvania. 

"  He  heard  of  the  Quakers,  and  met  Thomas  Loe, 
an  obscure  disciple  of  George  Fox.  Under  the 
influence  of  this  man,  young  Penn  made  the  reso 
lution  not  to  conform  to  the  usages  of  the  gay 
society  of  the  time. 

"  His  father  heard  of  his  non-conformity  with 
pain.  The  old  Admiral  was  a  most  prosperous 
man.  He  was  Naval  Commissioner,  Admiral  of 
Ireland,  a  member  of  Parliament,  and  a  favorite  of 
the  Duke  of  York.  He  spread  a  jovial  table,  and 
entertained  the  best  company. 


180  UP  FROM   THE  CAPE. 

"  He  resolved  to  bring  his  son  to  London  and  to 
see  "what  hard  dining  and  late  dancing"  would 
do  in  weakening  and  destroying  his  new  principles. 
He  took  him  to  the  theatres,  gave  him  a  dog  and 
gun,  ridiculed  him  and  had  him  whipped,  and 
finally  sent  him  to  Paris,  with  introductions  to  the 
gay  society  of  the  French  capital. 

"  Young  Penn  was  somewhat  influenced  by  these 
dramatic  episodes  of  life,  but  his  principles  were 
not  changed. 

"  When  about  twenty  three  years  of  age,  he  went 
to  Cork,  sick  of  the  garish  scenes  and  false  lights 
that  had  so  long  glittered  before  him.  Soon  after 
his  arrival  he  learned  that  Thomas  Loe,  the 
Quaker,  was  about  to  preach  in  that  city.  He 
resolved  to  hear  him. 

"The  plain  Quaker,  the  apostle  of  the  Inner 
Light,  announced  the  subject  of  his  discourse. 

"  It  was  :  'There  is  a  faith  that  overcomes  the 
world  and  there  is  a  faith  that  is  overcome  by  the 
world.' 

"Penn  was  smitten  by  the  subject.  He  felt 
that  it  was  a  message  to  him.  That  night  he 
turned  his  back  forever  upon  an  idle  and  pur 
poseless  life,  andbecame  a  Friend. 

"Hat  homage  was  the  custom  of  the  age. 


UP   FROM  THE   CAPE.  l8l 

" '  Friends  do  not  take  off  their  hats  to  any 
man/  said  Penn  to  his  father,  when  they  again 
met. 

"  'How  will  you  do  at  Court,  you  will  not  wear 
your  hat  in  the  presence  of  the  Prince  ? ' 

"  '  Let  me  have  a  little  time  to  consider  the 
question.' 

"  He  retired  to  his  room,  and  prayed. 

"  He  returned  saying  in  effect  that  he  would 
not  render  pretentious  homage  to  any  man. 

" '  Not  even  to  the  King  and  the  Duke  of 
York  ? ' 

" '  No,  not  even  to  the  King  and  the  Duke  of 
York.' 

"  His  father  demanded  that  he  should  leave  his 
house. 

"  He  did  so,  but  he  had  within  him  that  which 
is  of  more  consequence  than  titles  and  estates, 
'the  faith  that  overcomes  the  world.' 

"  That  type  of  young  men  is  disappearing  in  the 
East,  but  reappearing  somewhat  less  heroically  in 
the  West.  The  Winthrops  of  the  first  century, 
the  Adamses  of  the  second,  the  Wendell  Philippses 
of  this  ;  their  simple  habits,  principles,  and  strong 
purposes,  are  not  the  types  and  models  of  the  new 
order  of  things.  Young  men  are  putting  on  the 


1 82  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

old  clothes  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  one  sees 
second-hand  Europe  everywhere.  The  indepen 
dence  of  thought  and  character  that  ennobles  a 
man  for  all  time,  seems  to  have  passed  away  with 
the  war.  Yet,  a  crisis  like  the  war  would  bring  it 
back  again.  I  believe  in  our  people  still." 

Eugene  was  an  intense  admirer  of  what  is  dis 
tinctively  English,  and  of  old  English  scenes  and 
associations. 

"When  I  was  in  England,"  he  said  one  Octo 
ber  morning,  when  he  had  called  to  ask  about 
father,  "  when  I  was  in  England,  I  visited  as  many 
of  the  places  associated  with  Dickens'  books  as  I 
was  able  to  find :  Falstaff  Inn,  Goswell  Road, 
Rochester  Castle,  White  Hart  Inn,  Gray's  Inn, 
Ralph  Nickleby's  Mansion,  Old  Bailey  Prison,  Old 
Curiosity  Shop,  Chancery  Lane,  Lincoln  Inn,  Blue 
Bell  Inn,  Epping  Forest.  I  spent  many  days  in 
these  places,  book  in  hand.  It  was  charming, 
charming !" 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  uncle.  "I  would  like 
to  visit  some  of  the  places  associated  with  old- 
time  Boston.  I  wish  you  would  go  with  me  this 
morning,  Eugene,  you  are  so  fond  of  historic 
places." 

"  What  places  are  they,  uncle  ?  " 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  183 

"  Well,  first  to  the  place  where  Mary  Chilson  is 
buried.  " 

"  Mary  Chilson  ?  —  Mary  Chilson  ?  I  think  I 
have  not  heard  much  about  Mary  Chilson  ?  Who 
was  she  ?" 

"  She  was  the  first  to  leap  upon  Plymouth 
Rock." 

"Oh  —  aw  —  where  from  ?" 

"  From  the  boat  of  the  Mayflower." 

"Oh — aw  —  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  really, 
weally  don't  know  where  tJiat  place  is." 

"Let  us  go  and  see  the  Boston  Stone." 

"  The  Boston    stone  ?      I  beg  your  pardon.     I 
really,  weally  never  heard  of  the  Boston  Stone  — 
the   Boston   Stone  ?     How  curious.      I  beg  your 
pardon." 

"  Well,  then,  let  us  go  and  see  the  remains 
of  the  old  Province  House." 

"  I  have  read  of  the  old  Province  House  in 
Twice  Told  Talcs  —  charming,  all  very  charming  ; 
it  was,  I  think,  near  the  Old  South  Church.  I 
did  not  know  that  there  were  any  remains.  You 
have  the  advantage  of  me,  you  see.  I  beg  your 
pardon." 

"  Then  we  will  go  to  see  the  Old  Codfish  at  the 
State  House." 


184  UP  FROM   THE  CAPE, 

"  I  do  know  where  the  State  House  is,  Uncle. 
That  is  a  very  evident  building.  But  Uncle,  I  beg 
your  pardon,  I  wouldn't  like  to  go  to  see  an  old 
codfish,  Uncle,  really,  weally  I  wouldn't." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AUNT  RELATES  TO  UNCLE  HER  LUMINOUS  CONVER 
SATION  WITH  MR.  MC  BRIDE,  THE  AGNOSTIC. 

"  Husband,  have  you  ever  met  Mr.  McBride  ? 
He  is  a  handsome  gentleman,  with  a  sprinklin'  of 
gray  in  his  hair  ;  round  as  a  Dutchman,  with  rosy 
cheeks,  very  social,  and  always  ready  to  converse 
on  any  subject.  I  asked  Carrie  one  day  to  what 
religious  denomination  he  belonged,  and  she  said 
he  was  an  Agnostic.  I  did  not  know  just  what 
that  meant,  but  supposed  that  it  was  one  of  the 
high  sects,  and  that  he  must  have  some  myste 
rious  sources  of  knowledge,  as  edifyin'  as  the 
Lectureship,  and  as  I  wished  to  get  as  much  light 
as  possible,  I  thought  I  would  have  an  interview 
with  Mr.  McBride  whenever  I  should  have  a  good 
opportunity. 

"  There  was  one  thing  about  Mr.  McBride  that 
puzzled  me  :  He  was  rich,  he  had  been  educated 
at  college,  he  had  travelled  in  foreign  countries, 
he  went  into  the  best  society ;  as  Carrie  described 


1 86  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

him,  'he  was  a  club-house  bachelor,'  with  every 
advantage  that  the  world  can  give,  and  yet  he  was 
not  contented  or  happy.  He  seemed  runnin'  after 
happiness  all  the  time  but  never  findin'  it.  He 
was  not  a  hopeful  man  ;  he  did  not  believe  in 
people.  With  all  of  his  wealth  and  learnin'  there 
seemed  to  be  something  wantin',  notwithstandin' 
that  he  was  an  Agnostic. 

"  One  evenin'  he  called  when  Henry's  wife  was 
out,  and  Henry  was  quiet,  and  I  found  myself  left 
alone  with  him.  Now,  thought  I,  is  my  oppor 
tunity  ;  now  I  will  plunge  into  the  deep  sea  of 
knowledge  and  experience,  and  'bring  up  pearls,' 
to  use  a  figure. 

'"Mr.  McBride,'  said  I,  'would  you  have  any 
objection  explainin'  to  me  your  theological  views? 
You  belong  to  one  of  the  high  sects,  I  hear.' 

"  '  My  theological  views  ? — Don't  you  know,  my 
dear  madam,  I'm  an  Agnostic,'  said  he. 

"'Have  you  any  objection,  Mr.  McBride  to 
tellin'  me  your  experience  ? '  said  I.  '  We  meet 
around  to  the  houses  and  tell  our  experiences  on 
the  Cape,  and  we  find  it  wonderful  edifyin'. ' 

"  'No,  madam  ;'  said  he  'no  objection.  It  is  a 
sad  story.  I  sought  for  the  truth  everywhere, 
with  this  result,  to  become  an  Agnostic.  I  studied 


UP   FROM    THE   CAPE.  l8/ 

theology  ;  I  read  science  ;  I  argued  with  ministers 
of  all  creeds.  I  used  to  love  to  argue,  and  I  have 
spent  hours  and  hours  in  the  studies  of  the  first 
and  best  ministers  in  Boston,  but  I  was  brought  to 
no  conviction  of  the  truth.  I  resolved  to  go 
abroad  and  study  the  German  systems  of  phi 
losophy.  I  spent  two  years  in  Berlin,  but  found  no 
satisfaction.  Many  were  the  hours  that  I  passed 
in  the  summer  beer  gardens,  with  students  of 
theology  and  science,  as  curious  as  myself,  but  I 
was  not  able  to  arrive  at  any  definite  conclusion. 
I  left  the  land  of  the  Reformation,  and  went  to 
Paris.  Oh,  the  hours  that  I  have  spent  in  the 
Boulevards,  smoking  my  cigars  and  discussing  the 
mysteries  of  the  soul !  I  studied  Hegel,  and 
Strauss  and  Compte.  I  became  a  Pessimist. 
Then  I  went  to  England  and  pursued  my  inquiries 
in  the  great  club  houses,  where  the  wits  and  phi 
losophers  meet.  I  made  myself  more  familiar  with 
the  theories  of  Darwin,  Tyndall  and  Spencer. 
But  the  truth  was  not  to  be  found  anywhere.  My 
travels  and  studies  were  all  in  vain.  I  have  dis 
cussed  this  matter  of  theology  with  ministers  of 
all  churches,  with  philosophers  of  all  schools,  with 
scientists,  artists  and  poets.  I  have  sought  and 
found  nothing:.' 


1 88  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

"  '  But  I  thought  you  were  an  Agnostic  ? ' 
said  1. 

"  '  So  I  am,  madam/  said  he. 

"  '  What  is  an  Agnostic  ? '  asked  I. 

"  '  It  is  a  man  that  don't  pretend  to  know  any 
thing,'  said  he. 

"  '  And  you  don't  pretend  to  know  anything  ? ' 
said  I. 

"  'No.' 

"  'Well,  I  might  have  knowed  as  much  —  you 
don't  seem  like  a  man  who  had  any  spare  knowledge 
to  sell,  or  to  give  away.  But  Carrie  said  how  that 
you  was  an  Agnostic,  and  I  thought  my  first 
impressions  must  be  wrong.  Mr.  McBride,  I  hope 
you  will  excuse  me,  I  am  a  very  plain  spoken 
woman,'  said  I,  'but  I  always  do  my  duty,  and  I 
do  not  fear  the  face  of  clay.' 

"  '  Mr.  McBride,  I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  few 
philosophical  questions,'  said  I. 

"  '  Proceed,  madam.  I  shall  be  pleased  to 
endeavor  to  answer  them.' 

"  '  If  you  were  going  a  fishing,  you  wouldn't  go 
up  to  the  top  of  a  granite  mountain,  now,  would 
you  ?' 

"  'Certainly  not,  madam.' 

"  '  Nor  go  out  into  the  middle  of  the  sea  to  look 
for  fruits,  or  flowers  ? ' 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  189 

"  '  No,  madam.' 

"  '  You  wouldn't  split  open  a  rock  if  you  were 
looking  for  your  eye-glass  ? ' 

"  '  I  certainly  should  not,  madam.  But  what  have 
your  questions  to  do  with  this  great  problem? ' 

"  'I'm  coming  to  that/  said  I.  'You  say  you 
have  searched  the  land  and  sea,  and  studied  all  the 
philosophies,  to  find  the  truth,  and  you  can't  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  madam.' 

"  '  Well,  hundreds  of  people  on  the  Cape  have 
found  the  truth  who  never  went  twenty  miles  from 
home,  and  never  studied  the  philosophies,  or  saw 
Paris.  I  know  of  one  man  who  found  the  truth, 
and  never  so  much  as  left  his  bed.' 

"  '  Extraordinary !     Where  ? '  he  asked. 

"  'Where?  In  the  only  place  that  it  is  to  be 
found  —  in  his  soul.' 

"  '  I  see  you  are  a  mystic,'  said  he. 

"  '  No,  there's  nothin'  mysterious  about  it  at  all. 
I'll  tell  ye  how,  you  needn't  have  gone  roamin' 
all  over  the  world  ;  if  you  had  just  come  to  me,  I 
could  have  made  the  thing  clear ;  I  understand  it 
perfectly  ;  the  truth  isn't  lost.  You  just  give  up 
all  these  selfish  habits  of  yours,  and  wrong 
desires,  and  open  your  heart  to  the  truth,  and  the 
truth  will  come  to  you  naturally.  Open  the 


1 90  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

curtains  of  your  soul  to  the  light,  and  the  light 
will  come  in.' 

"  '  Very  poetic,  madam,'  said  he. 

"  '  If  I  were  in  your  case,  I'll  just  tell  you  what 
I  would  do  :  I  would  throw  away  my  cigars,  and 
leave  off  drinkin'  beer,  and  let  the  club-houses  all 
go,  and  I  would  repent  of  my  sins, —  and  you  look 
as  though  they  might  be  quite  numerous,  and — 

"  '  Goin'  ?'  asked  I. 

"  '  Good  night,  madam,'  said  he. 

" '  Poor  Mr.  McBride,  I'm  afraid  he'll  never  find 
the  truth.  And  so  an  Agnostic  is  one  that  knows 
nothin'  at  all.  Why,  Eben,  we  needn't  have  taken 
so  much  pains  to  study  up  these  deep  things  — 
I  knew  more  than  that  myself,  when  I  was  down  on 
the  Cape.  He  didn't  pretend  to  know  nothin'  at 
all,  and  he  called  himself  by  that  great  high- 
soundin'  name,  and  didn't  seem  ashamed  of  it." 


CHAPTER     XXI. 

"UP  AND  DOWN  THE  HARBOR  GOES  THE  HENRY 
MORRISON  !  "  —  UNCLE'S  NARRATIVE. 

"Up  and  down,  up  and  down  the  harbor  goes  the 
Henry  Morrison.  Every  day  but  Sunday,  with  its 
cells  and  its  young  passengers,  on,  on,  through  the 
years  ! 

"  My  heart  turns  sick  to  think  of  it  ;  it  brings 
tears  to  my  eyes,  and  yet  the  officer  said  to  me  : 

"'That  is  nothing,  not  a  drop  in  the  bucket; 
these  things  are  but  the  incidents  and  accidents 
of  crime.' 

"  '  Incidents  and  accidents  ! '  and  yet  so  many 
criminals  and  so  young  !  " 

Uncle  walked  to  and  fro,  and  I  asked  him  to 
what  he  referred. 

"  I  have  to-day  visited  Deer  Island  ;  I  wished  to 
see  the  institutions,  and  they  gave  me  a  '  pass  '  at 
City  Hall. 

"While  I  was  standing  upon  the  deck,  waiting 
for  the  boat  to  start,  and  looking  at  the  floating  ice 


1 92  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

on  the  harbor,  as  it  glistened  in  the  noon-day  sun, 
several  policemen  and  quite  a  number  of  hard-look 
ing  lads  gathered  upon  the  wharf,  as  if  expecting 
an  arrival.  Presently  several  close,  padlocked 
carriages,  marked  'City  of  Boston,'  were  driven 
down  to  the  pier. 

"  I  walked  forward  to  see  who  the  new  comers 
were." 

" '  Stand  back,  gentlemen,'  said  an  officer, 
'  stand  back  till  we  get  these  prisoners  on  board, 
so  that  we  may  see  who  they  are,  and  not  get  the 
crowd  mixed.' 

"This  seemed  a  doubtful  compliment  to  the 
'gentlemen,'  and  as  we  had  no  wish  to  get  '  mixed 
up '  with  the  people  whom  the  officers  were  assist 
ing  out  of  the  carriages,  we  stepped  back,  leaving 
so  broad  a  dividing  line  as  to  preclude  the  possi 
bility  of  any  mistake. 

"The  scene  was  a  sad  one.  Nearly  seventy 
prisoners,  most  of  them  young,  and  nearly  half  of 
them  girls  and  young  women,  were  brought  on 
board  of  the  boat.  Monday,  and  most  of  these 
prisoners  had  been  arrested  for  drunkenness  or 
disorderly  conduct  on  the  Sabbath  ! 

"  The  prisoners  were  a  motley  company.  Several 
of  the  boys  seemed  to  be  Americans,  and  the 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  193 

young  men,  for  the  most  part,  foreigners.  They 
were  all  sober,  now,  and  their  conduct  was  such  as 
befitted  their  humiliating  situation. 

"  As  they  stepped  from  the  vehicles,  and  became 
conscious  that  the  people  on  the  wharf  and  the 
boat  were  looking  at  them,  they  hung  their  heads, 
and  with  averted  looks  and  downcast  eyes,  were 
conducted  below  deck. 

"  '  Good-by,  Harry,'  said  a  middle-aged  woman, 
as  one  of  the  boys  passed  her  on  the  wharf. 

"The  tears  were  rolling  down  her  cheeks,  and 
the  head  of  the  boy  dropped  lower. 

"' Good-by,  mother.' 

"The  boy  did  not  look  up.  He  was  ashamed  to 
meet  the  face  of  his  own  mother. 

"  The  behavior  of  the  girls  was  wholly  different 
from  that  of  the  boys  and  men.  Girls  less  seldom 
lose  their  self-respect  than  boys,  but  it  is  said  that 
when  they  do  fall  into  evil  ways  they  are  far  more 
brazen  and  reckless. 

"The  female  prisoners  came  on  board  laughing, 
or  giving  themselves  airs,  as  though  the  whole 
thing  were  a  joke,  or  they  were  wholly  indifferent 
to  public  opinion.  Not  even  the  youngest  of 
them  seemed  at  all  affected  by  the  disgrace  of  her 
situation,  and  not  one  of  them  shed  a  tear. 
7 


194  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

"  I  was  informed  that  many  of  these  girls  had 
before  been  sentenced  to  the  Island,  and  that  one 
of  them,  in  particular,  had  been  committed  to  the 
Reform  School  twenty-nine  times,  and  to  the 
House  of  Industry  a  number  of  times. 

"  After  the  prisoners  came  on  board,  the  boat 
left  the  wharf  for  the  Island.  By  my  side  sat  an 
old  lady  who  was  going  to  the  alms-house.  She 
was  neatly  dressed,  her  face  bore  the  line's  of  dis 
appointment  and  sorrow,  and  she  was  bitterly 
weeping.  Of  course  she  alone  knew  what  caused 
the  tears  to  flow,  but  they  evidently  were  associa 
ted  with  her  dismal  prospects  in  life  and  her  hard 
lot.  Occasionally  some  particular  thought  seemed 
to  be  more  painful  than  the  others,  and  her  tears 
broke  out  afresh  as  often  as  it  came  to  her  mind. 
She  looked  like  one  who  had  struggled  against 
poverty  and  the  alms-house,  but  was  now  pros 
trated,  broken  and  hopeless. 

"  '  Have  you  any  children  ? '  asked  an  officer. 

"  '  Yes,  but  they  are  all  scattered.  I  don't  know 
where  they  are.  I  used  to  live  with  Noel,  my 
youngest  boy,  and  he  was  good  to  his  mother  till 
he  took  to  bad  ways.' 

"  At  these  words  her  grief  broke  out  anew. 
She  buried  her  face  in  her  bundle,  and  tried  to 


UP   FROM    THE    CAPE.  195 

suppress  an  audible  burst  of  anguish.  And  in 
this  way  the  poor,  friendless,  deserted  mother, 
robbed  by  vice  even  of  her  youngest  boy,  always  a 
mother's  darling,  continued  her  broken-hearted  way 
to  the  home  of  the  friendless. 

"  It  was  a  hard  case,  but  shall  I  ever  forget  the 
young  woman  that  sat  by  her  side,  a  stranger, 
hating  God  and  the  world.  How  she  did  run  on ! 
I  seem  to  hear  her  now. 

"  '  Hypoey,"  said  the  officer,  'rescued  her  from 
suicide  —  trying  to  drown  herself  under  the 
bridge.' 

"  '  Life/  she  said,  '  I  hate  it.  I  was  happy  once, 
and  decent,  and  had  a  home  and  a  child.  God 
knows  how  I  loved  that  husband  and  child.  Then 
he  took  to  drink.  The  saloon-keepers  tempted 
him.  He  grew  worse  —  but  I  loved  him,  and  when 
I  went  to  the  saloon-keeper  and  begged  him  for 
the  sake  of  my  child  to  save  him,  he  jeered  at  me. 
Then  he  went  to  the  bad,  and  the  city  that  had 
put  temptation  before  him,  put  him  behind  the 
bars.  Then  my  child  took  sick  and  became  a  " 
cripple,  and  /  took  to  bad  ways.  I  had  not  a 
friend  in  the  world. 

"  '  I  went  down  under  the  bridge,  last  night,  for 
the  waters  to  rise  and  cover  me.  The  tide  was  out' 


196  UP   FROM    THE   CAPE. 

I  thought  of  my  old  mother,  long  ago  dead. 
Blessed  are  the  dead.  The  tide  began  to  come  in. 
It  cooled  my  feet.  I  thought  of  my  old  home, 
and  the  trees,  and  the  martins  under  the  eaves, 
and  morning-glories.  The  tide  was  coming  in.  I 
thought  of  the  old  school-house,  the  old  church, 
and  the  choir  in  which  I  used  to  sing.  The  tide 
was  rising.  I  thought  of  my  early  love  for  Wil 
liam.  How  happy  I  was — how  I  trembled  with 
delight  when  he  first  told  me  that  he  loved  me  ! 
The  tide  was  rising.  I  thought  of  my  happiness 
when  I  first  kissed  my  baby.  Then  I  thought  of 
woe  —  Oh,  God,  how  I  suffered  !  The  tide  was 
rising. 

"  'Then  he  came  and  dragged  me  out,  and  pulled 
me  in  my  wet  clothes  through  the  street,  and  past 
that  saloon,  and  that  saloon-keeper  put  out  his 
head  and  jeered  at  me. 

" '  It  is  he  who  ought  to  be  here,  not  I.  This 
city  licenses  men  to  destroy  family  and  hearts  and 
happiness,  and  the  officials  fatten  on  the  wages  of 
death.  It  bids  men  destroy  men,  and  sends  the 
wives  of  those  that  men  destroy  to  the  Island.  It 
protects  the  lights  of  hell  that  glimmer  in  every 
street.  It  says  "  Allure,  destroy  !  " 

"'Go  away,  stranger;  don't  preach.     I  hate  you! 


UP   FROM   THE  CAPE.  197 

I  hate  everybody.  I  cannot  help  myself.  I  wish 
I  were  dead.' 

"  How  wildly  she  glared  at  me !  How  she  changed 
her  voice  at  the  words  'the  tide  was  rising.'  How 
many  saloons  does  the  city  license  ?  How  many 
men  to  rob  and  murder  their  brothers,  and  mock 
at  their  families  ? 

"  As  I  turned  from  her  she  added  :  — 

"  '  Stranger,  you  look  kind,  as  though  you  came 
from  the  country,  and  had  not  been  hardened  by 
such  sights  as  these.  My  little  boy  —  how  I  loved 
him  when  he  was  a  baby,  poor  thing,  before  I  took 
to  the  bad — sells  papers  on  Columbus  Avenue, 
perhaps  you  would  be  willing  to  do  something  for 
him;  if  you  should,  God  bless  you;  he  is  a 
cripple." 

"  When  we  arrived  at  the  Island,  the  prisoners 
were  taken  to  the  Reception-House,  a  brick  build 
ing  near  the  wharf.  I  was  invited  into  the  officer's 
apartment,  where  I  remained  during  the  calling  of 
the  roll  of  the  prisoners. 

"  '  Richard  Honar.' 

"  'Here.' 

"  '  How  old  are  you  ? ' 

"  'Twenty.' 

"  '  Where  were  you  born  ? ' 


198  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE 

"'In  Ireland.' 

"  '  Can  you  read  and  write  ? ' 

"'No.  ' 

"  '  Have  you  a  trade  ? ' 

"'No.' 

"  '  Have  you  been  here  before  ? ' 

"'Yes.' 

"  '  Under  what  name  ? ' 

"  'James  Scott.' 

"The  officers  informed  me  that  many  of  the 
prisoners  came  to  the  Island  under  assumed 
names,  and  that  some  of  them  had  changed  these 
names  so  many  times  as  to  have  almost  forgotten 
what  their  real  names  were. 

"The  same  questions  were  put  to  each  of  the 
prisoners.  The  men  and  boys  answered  with  an 
evident  sense  of  humiliation,  but  the  girls  ex 
hibited  the  same  brazen  effrontery  as  when  on  the 
wharf. 

"  'Mary  Alton.' 

"'Here!'  with  a  toss  of  the  head,  a  pout  of 
the  lips,  and  a  forced  smile  on  meeting  the  eye  of 
a  companion. 

"  '  How  old  are  you  ?  ' 

"  '  Eighteen.' 

"  '  Have  you  ever  been  here  before  ? ' 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  199 

"  '  O  yes  ,'  with  a  laugh. 

"  '  Under  what  name  ? ' 

" '  Mary  Dennis.' 

"  One  of  the  boys  was  quite  young.  He  gave 
his  name  as  Johnny.  He  looked  neglected,  and 
his  face  showed  a  certain  refinement  of  feeling 
and  a  good  heart. 

"  I  said  to  him,  '  Johnny,  how  came  you  here  ? ' 

"  '  No  cause,  sir  ;  I'm  a  vagrant.' 

"  '  Have  you  any  friends  ? ' 

"  '  Only  an  aunt.' 

"  'Were  you  ever  here  before  ? ' 

"  He  seemed  ashamed  to  answer,  colored  deeply 
and  said,  — 

"  'Not  while  mother  and  sister  were  living.' 

"  The  prisoners  were  formed  into  a  line,  and 
were  conducted  along  the  icy  road  to  the  institu 
tion,  a  part  of  them  having  been  sentenced  to  the 
House  of  Reformation,  and  a  part  to  the  House 
of  Industry. 

"  '  These  are  not  our  criminals/  said  the  officer. 

"  '  They  go  to  other  places.' 

"  Up  and  down,  up  and  down  the  harbor  goes  the 
Henry  Morrison.  With  its  cells.  With  its  young 
passengers. 

"  Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  daily. 


200  UP   FROM    THE   CAPE. 

"I  pity  them  from  my  heart.  I  have  no  hard 
words ;  I  can  but  recall  Robert  Hall's  expression 
on  seeing  a  poor  drunkard  dragging  himself  along 
the  streets  of  London  —  '  But  for  the  grace  of 
God,  there  goes  Robert  Hall.' 

"  I  never  dreamed  this  fair  city  had  such  a  side 
as  this.  Few  country  people  do.  Up  and  down, 
up  and  down  the  harbor —  Heaven  pity  them  ! 

"Degraded  ?  Yes,  in  life,  but  hardly  more  so  in 
heart  than  the  man  whose  vote  protects  the  ghouls 
that  feed  and  fatten  on  the  souls  of  men ! 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

INTELLIGENCE  FROM  TREASURE  MOUNTAIN. 

"Are  we  alone,  Jefferson  ?  Something  has  hap 
pened.  I  have  a  secret  on  my  mind,  and  I  have 
been  waitin'  for  a  chance  to  speak  to  you  about  it, 
all  by  ourselves. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  husband  know  of  it  for  any 
thing  ;  when  I  speak  of  that  affair  his  mouth 
begins  to  pucker  —  you  know  what  husband 
is  —  and  such  a  wife  as  I  have  been  to  him,  too ! 

"  What  affair,  do  you  ask  ? 

"  Why,  Treasure  Mountain. 

"  It  isn't  best  to  trust  in  riches,  Jefferson.  They 
take  to  themselves  wings,  and  where  they  fly  or 
go  to  no  man  knows. 

"  I  have  been  to  Dr.  Gamm's  office,  privately, 
for  a  settlement,  four  times,  and  yesterday,  and 
yesterday,  I  was  stunned,  I  was  stunned  at  the 
word  that  was  left  me.  I  came  home  that 
astonished  that  I  never  saw  a  person  or  a  house 
on  any  of  the  streets  ;  that  astonished  I  was  —  and 
I  hesitate  to  tell  it,  even  to  you. 


202  UP   FROM  THE  CAPE. 

"  The  first  time  I  went,  I  asked  for  the  Doctor, 
and  was  told  to  send  my  card  into  the  inner  office. 
I  told  the  boy  that  I  hadn't  any  card,  but  to  tell 
the  Doctor  that  Desire  Endicott  wanted  to  see 
him,  she  that  he  boarded  with  down  on  the 
Cape. 

"  The  boy  returned. 

"  'The  Doctor  is  very  busy  with  important  busi 
ness.  He  says  you  will  have  to  call  some  other 
day,'  says  he. 

"Now  I  boarded  that  man  and  his  wife  for  $5  a 
week,  for  six  weeks,  both  of  'um.  And  they  lived 
high.  Then  I  let  him  have  $500  to  pull  down 
Treasure  Mountain,  so  as  to  found  the  University, 
and  do  good.  Should  you  have  thought  that  he 
would  have  sent  me  such  a  message  as  that  ;  should 
you  have  thought  it  ? 

"  I  called  the  next  day  and  received  almost 
exactly  the  same  answer ;  would  you  have  thought 
it? 

"  I  was  determined  not  to  be  put  off  the  third 
time.  So  I  wrote  him  a  note.  It  was  as  follows, 
very  polite  and  respectful :  — 

"'  Mrs.  Endicott  presents  her  compliments,  and  wishes  to 
draw  her  dividens  on  Treasure  Mountain.  She  would  like 


UP  FROM    THE  CAPE.  203 

principal  and  interest.     She  will  wait  until  you  can  give  her 
an  interview.     This  is  her  third  visit. 

DESIRE  ENDICOTT.' 

"  I  sent  this  into  the  inner  office  by  the  boy. 
After  a  long  time  the  boy  brought  me  back  a  slip 
of  paper.  It  read  like  this  :  — 

"  '  An  explanation  of  this  affair  will  be  left  for  you 
to-morrow  with  the  clerk  at  the  desk.  I  am  very  busy 
to-day.  M.  O.  GAMM.' 

"I  thought  this  was  rather  indefinite.  But  busi 
ness  is  business,  and  busy  men,  I  said  to  myself, 
cannot  let  light  matters  like  $500  stand  in  the 
way  of  great  transactions.  He  told  me  that 
Company  had  a  capital  of  $10,000,000.  So  I 
overlooked  the  way  he  treated  me,  or  I  tried  to, 
and  the  next  day  went  with  my  big  wallet  in  my 
inner  skirt  pocket,  so  that  no  thieves  would  get 
at  it,  to  draw  principal  and  interest,  and  end  my 
connection  with  the  great  enterprise. 

"  I  asked  the  clerk  for  the  Doctor. 

"  '  He  has  gone,'  said  he. 

'"Where  ?'  asked  I. 

"  '  To  Chicago.' 

"  '  Did  he  leave  my  money  ? '  said  I. 

"  '  He  left  no  money  for  any  one.' 


204  UP  FROM   THE  CAPE. 

"  '  No  word  ? ' 

" '  Nothing.' 

"'Yes,  he  did,'  said  that  little  errand-boy  ;  'he 
told  me,  just  as  he  was  leaving,  to  tell  you  that  if 
that  old  woman  from  Cape  Cod  called,  just  to  say 
that  there  Treasure  Mountain  affair  all  busted  up 
long  ago,  and  to  give  her  one  of  them  printed 
reports.' 

"  Could  I  believe  my  own  ears  !  Well,  I 
brought  away  the  printed  report.  It  isn't  infer- 
estin'  readin' !  I  wish  I  had  listened  to  what 
husband  said.  But  I  am  pretty  firm-minded,  and 
I  am  not  goin'  to  tell  Eben  anything  about  it, 
now,  would  you  ?  He'd  just  say,  '  I  told  you  so.' 
And  such  a  wife  as  I  have  been  to  him,  too  !  I 
never  wanted  to  scold  so  in  my  life,  but  who  is 
there  to  scold  at  ? 

"Eben  just  offered  me  $100  to  spend;  he's  a 
good  provider.  I  didn't  accept  it  ;  I  hold  my 
head  high  in  times  like  these.  I  expected  to  have 
had  my  dividens  from  Treasure  Mountain  for 
spendin'  money  and  for  charity.  Why,  I'd  better 
have  let  my  money  been  in  the  Savin's  Bank  down 
on  the  Cape  ;  now  hadn't  I  ? 

"  '  That  old  woman  from  Cape  Cod  ! '  after  all 
I  had  done  for  him,  too.  '  All  busted  up ! ' 


'THAT    IS  ALL    BUSTED    UP." 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  205 

There's  my  big  wallet,  the  thieves  may  have  it  for 
all  me  ;  flat  as  a  flapjack.  I  have  often  seen  that 
wallet,  in  the  visions  of  the  night,  as  I  expected  it 
would  look  when  I  came  to  a  settlement  with 
Treasure  Mountain.  It  never  looked  like  that. 

"  I  haven't  shown  my  capabilities  after  all.  A 
woman  wa'n't  made  to  speculate,  now,  was  she  ? 
But  I  have  done  as  well  as  some  of  the  men.  I've 
got  my  report. 

"7efferson,  one  can  never  tell  what  a  day  may 
not  bring  forth." 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE  BLACK   SEA.  UNCLE   EBEN's   NARRATIVE, 

CONTINUED. 

"The  story  told  me  by  the  wretched  creature  on 
the  Henry  Morrison  has  haunted  me.  As  a  change 
from  the  sick  room  I  several  times  walked  over  to 
Columbus  Avenue,  hoping  to  meet  her  little  son, 
the  newsboy. 

"I  found  him  —  it  was  as  she  had  said  —  he 
was  a  thin  shadow  of  life —  he  flitted  into  and  out 
of  the  cars,  on  his  crutch,  like  a  ghost. 

"  I  could  not  overcome  the  feeling  in  my  heart 
that  I  had  a  mission  to  do,  and  used  to  go  down 
and  buy  a  portion  of  his  little  stock  of  papers,  not 
caring  to  be  particular  about  the  change.  I  can 
not  forget  the  look  of  gratitude  that  he  used  to 
give  me  as  he  stood  in  the  gaslight,  and  how  he 
seemed  to  drink  in  the  words  that  indicated  that  I 
cared  for  him  —  like  a  soul  thirsting  for  sympathy 
and  affection,  and  conscious  of  being  unloved. 

"  One  day  I  missed  him.     The  other  newsboys 


UP   FROM   THE    CAPE.  2O/ 

of  whom  I  made  inquiry  concerning  him  said 
he  was  sick. 

"The  days  passed  on  until  one  Saturday  evening 
a  little  boy  touched  my  arm  in  the  street,  and 
said  :  — 

" '  Freddy  is  dead.     May  I  sell  you  papers  now  ? ' 

'"When  did  Freddy  die?' 

"  'This  morning.' 

"  '  Had  he  anyone  to  take  care  of  him  ? ' 

"  'He  lived  with  an  old  woman.' 

"  '  Where  ? ' 

'"At ,  North  Street.' 

"  North  Street  —  I  went  to  the  place. 

"  The  stranger  who  visits  Boston,  and  sees  its 
beautiful  churches  and  fine  public  buildings,  its 
green  Common,  surrounded  with  elegant  homes, 
its  Public  Garden,  with  statues,  fountains,  and 
flowers,  and  the  evidences  of  wealth,  refinement 
and  culture  that  meet  him  on  every  hand,  can  have 
little  conception  of  such  a  place  as  North  Street. 

"  I  found  it  a  locality  filled  with  tippling  shops 
and  dens  of  vice ;  with  hard,  miserable  men,  from 
whom  all  that  is  godlike  in  human  nature  seemed 
to  have  departed,  and  yet  more  miserable  ^yomen? 
who  shrink  from  the  very  face  of  day. 

"  I  found  the  place  where  he  lived,  and  inquired 
of  the  house-keeper  — 


208  UP   FROM   THE   CAPE. 

"  '  When  is  Freddy's  funeral  ? ' 

"  '  I  don't  know  ;  Mr.  —  —  comes  after  him  to 
morrow.' 

"  '  Who  is  Mr.  -    -  ? ' 

"  '  He  buries  folks  for  the  city.' 

"  I  sought  the  city  undertaker. 

"  '  Do  you  bury  a  newsboy  from  North  Street 
to-morrow  ? ' 

"'Yes.' 

"'Where? ' 

"  '  At  Mount  Hope.  Did  you  know  him  ?  Per 
haps  you  would  like  to  go  to  the  cemetery  with 
me  to-morrow  ? ' 

"'I  would.' 

"  'And,'  then  he  added,  as  we  separated,  'prob 
ably  you  will  be  the  only  mourner  at  the  news 
boy's  funeral.' 

"  It  was  a  Sabbath  afternoon,  calm,  still,  golden. 
I  kept  my  appointment,  and,  as  Mr.  —  —  predicted, 
I  was  the  only  mourner,  or  at  least  the  only  friend 
who  followed  the  little  wanderer  to  his  last  resting 
place.  As  I  mounted  the  seat  with  the  driver,  I 
saw  in  the  back  of  the  vehicle  a  little  pine  coffin, 
and  I  was  made  doubly  sad  by  the  thought  that  it 
was  one  for  which  no  man  cared. 

"  We  passed  down  the  pleasant  streets,    over- 


UP   FROM    THE   CAPE.  209 

arched  with  bright  leaves.  The  churches  seemed 
flowing  and  reflowing  with  the  long  tide  of  people. 
The  Common,  with  its  hazy,  dreamy  avenues, 
presented  a  scene  of  life,  beauty  and  contentment, 
covered  as  it  was  with  light,  happy  faces.  Harrison 
Avenue  stretched  before  us  like  a  winding  stream 
of  sunlight,  over  which  flitted  the  shadows  of  long 
lines  of  trees,  and  sweetly  sounded  the  mellow 
notes  of  the  church  bells  —  then  away  through 
streets  where  untold  rural  beauties  mingled  with 
the  embellishments  of  art,  and  every  thing,  height 
ened  in  the  loveliness  by  the  Sabbath  calm,  made 
the  blooming  earth  appear  like  the  very  borders  of 
a  better  land. 

"  'All  Paradise  seemed  mirrored  in  the  trees  ; 

The  same  God  made  both  heavenly  flowers  and  these. ' 

"Forest  Hills!  What  a  vision  of  loveliness  on 
any  day !  How  beautiful  on  the  Sabbath  !  The 
great  city  lay  behind  us  at  last,  and  we  passed 
before  a  great  gate,  over  which  was  written,  'I  AM 
THE  RESURRECTION  AND  THE  LIFE.' 

"  We  soon  were  at  Mount  Hope  —  at  the  Potter's 
Field. 

"  They  had  dug  his  grave  in  God's  acre,  removed 
from  the  places  of  monuments  and  statues  —  in  a 
quiet  spot  where  the  slumberers  are  sooner  for- 


210  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

gotten  —  though  only  a  little  sooner,  after  all  —  than 
those  who  sleep  under  the  costly  sculpture  and  the 
tall  shaft. 

"An  Irishman  was  waiting  for  us,  leaning  on 
his  spade  over  the  little  heap  of  earth  on  one  side 
of  the  grave.  Then  we  took  out  of  the  carriage 
the  little  coffin,  and  set  it  down  on  the  green 
earth. 

"  'Twas  the  last  time.  Only  one  remove  more 
was  to  be  made,  and  the  lame  newsboy  would  be 
laid  away  forever  from  the  green  leaves  and  the 
sunshine,  from  the  flowers  and  the  singing  of  the 
birds. 

"The  silent  sunshine  fell  upon  his  coffin,  and 
slanted  into  his  little  grave.  Where  was  his 
mother  on  this  sad  day  ?  Who  was  she  ?  Where 
did  she  come  from  ? 

"  They  took  up  the  coffin  and  laid  it  down 
again,  this  time  under  the  sod.  They  shovelled 
the  earth  in  quickly,  and  left  the  mound  to  the 
wild  flowers. 

"  Fatherless,  motherless,  sisterless,  friendless ! 
My  heart  condemned  me  as  I  turned  from  the 
little  grave,  because  I  had  not  been  of  still  greater 
service  to  the  young  life  so  quickly  ended,  but  I 
thanked  God  that  He  had  led  me  to  speak  even 


UP    FROM    THE    CAPE,  211 

one  word  to  cheer  its  loneliness,  or  to  do  one  act  to 
brighten  its  shadows. 

"Back  to  the  city  —  to  the  wilderness  of 
homes. 

"  It  was  near  election  day. 

"  As  we  hurried  on  I  chanced  to  notice  a  huge 
poster,  on  a  board  fence  in  a  street,  made  poor  and 
wretched  by  saloons. 

"  It  contained  these  words  : 

'VOTE    FOR    SCANLAN.' 

"  Scanlan  was  the  saloon-keeper.  We  had  been 
finishing  his  work  —  so  far  as  the  child  was  con 
cerned.  Other  hands  had  carelessly  laid  the  father 
away  —  somewhere.  It  only  remained  for  others 
to  make  the  mother's  grave  —  any  where.  It  would 
soon  be  done.  Then  the  saloon-keeper's  work 
would  be  done  with  this  family.  One  of  one  hun 
dred. 

"  Perhaps  he  will  be  a  councilman  then  —  or  an 
alderman. 

"  Vote  for  Scanlan  ! 

"Why  not  ?  He  is  doing  a  legitimate  business. 
He  is  rich.  He  expects  to  purchase  absolution 
one  day  and  go  to  the  blessed  company  of  all 


212  UP  FROM   THE    CAPE. 

faithful  people.     The  city  is  generous  to  Scanlan  ; 
it  sells  him  a  license  ;  it  gives  his  victims  a  home 
on  the  cool  islands,  and  it  digs  his  graves. 
"'Vote  for  Scanlan.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  CLIO  CLUB. AUN'f's  NARRATIVE. 

"We  went  to  the  Clio  Club  concert  —  husband 
and  I. 

"We  were  told  that  this  was  a  very  choice  club, 
and  that  only  very  choice  people  were  invited. 
That  made  me  feel  very  choice.  It  is  a  very  agree 
able  feeling. 

"  Husband  was  not  pleased  with  this  word 
'choice'  that  was  so  freely  used  about  the  concert. 

"  '  It  neither  sounds  manly,  democratic  or  Amer 
ican,'  said  he.  You  know  what  husband  is  — 
always  talking  about  things  being  American. 

"The  programme  was  very  choice,  so  everyone 
said.  There  was  nothing  American  about  that  as 
anybody  could  see. 

"How  lovely  it  was  —  that  programme,  all  on 
coffee-colored  paper  with  rough  edges !  There  was 
one  piece  called  'Just  like  Love,'  marked  'Davy, 
Novello  ; '  that,  I  thought,  would  be  an  old  love 
song  ;  a  piano  piece  was  printed  under  the  name 


214  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

of  Presto  and  Canzona  Napolitana  ;  that,  I  thought, 
would  be  a  tune  ;  there  was  a  Ballade  by  Rhein- 
berger,  a  Cantabile  by  Tschaikowsky,  a  Venetian 
Barcarolle,  a  Toccata,  and  a  piece  called  '  Wein- 
achtspastorale '  and  a  Grand  Polonaise.  There 
was  a  March  et  Cortege  from  La  Reine  de  Saba; 
that,  I  thought,  would  be  a  march  ;  a  Cavatina  by 
Centemesi.  I  may  not  pronounce  these  words  all 
quite  right,  but  everything  was  foreign  and  far 
away ;  you  see  how  much  pains  had  been  taken 
to  make  it  choice. 

"  There  were  several  ladies  who  assisted  at 
the  concert.  These  had  double  names,  though 
whether  they  had  been  married  several  times,  or 
whether  their  husbands'  names  were  only  sort  of 
appendages,  I  did  not  know.  Among  them  were 
Mrs.  Smith-Scholalli  and  Mrs.  Jones-Florence. 
Their  names  looked  encouraging  on  the  pro 
gramme. 

"  There  was  a  large  man  with  a  wide  forehead 
and  black  hair,  that  sat  next  to  husband,  and  a 
chipper  little  miss  had  a  seat  beside  me ;  both 
were  very  entertainin'.  The  little  miss  informed 
me  that  the  programme  was  very  choice,  and  said 
that  we  were  about  to  enjoy  'a  feast  of  soul.'  I 
said  that  as  far  as  I  could  judge  the  programme 


UP    FROM    THE    CAPE.  215 

was  very  promising,  and  that  I  thought  that  piece 
would  be  very  grand.  I  pointed  to  the  Wein- 
achtspastorale  piece,  and  then  I  whispered  to  hus 
band  not  to  let  on  that  we  had  just  come  up  from 
the  Cape. 

"I  was  not  so  very  much  carried  away  with  the 
pieces  after  all.  I  have  enjoyed  hearing  'Be  Kind 
to  the  Loved  Ones  at  Home,'  or  '  Ben  Bolt,'  or  the 
'  Old  Oaken  Bucket,'  or  the  '  Old  Arm-Chair,'  or 
'  The  Lake  of  the  Dismal  Swamp,'  or  the  'Cana 
dian  Boat  Song,'  quite  as  much  as  these  far-away 
airs.  The  organ  and  piano  pieces  were  '  wonder 
ful,'  so  the  little  miss  at  my  side  said,  but  I  had  a 
great  feeling  of  relief  when  they  were  over;  and 
when  I  looked  around  to  the  clock  and  see 
how  fast  the  time  was  goin',  they  didn't  express 
anything  to  me  but  sound. 

"  'Wonderful  technique,'  said  the  little  miss  at 
my  side. 

"  'The  arithmetic  of  music,'  said  I. 

"  '  How  aptly  you  express  it,'  said  she. 

"  '  When  people  want  inspiration,  help  and  con 
solation  do  they  go  to  the  arithmetic  ? '  said  hus 
band,  says  he. 

"  '  If  they  are  so  educated,'  said  the  little  miss, 
'  they  will  find  pleasure  in  intellectual  music.' 


2l6  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

"  That  was  a  very  unwise  remark  that  hus 
band  made — to  that  pretty  girl,  too.  But  you 
know  what  Eben  is. 

"  About  nine  o'clock,  when  they  had  been 
playin'  two  pianos,  and  all  had  ended  with  a  grand 
flourish  and  a  great  bobbin',  and  bowin',  and 
cheerin',  husband  said  that  he  wasn't  '  educated  up 
to  it,'  and  that  we  had  better  go.  He  said  that  he 
wasn't  much  on  figures.  I  whispered  to  him  to 
sit  still  and  not  show  his  ignorance  ;  that  I  could 
stand  it  just  as  long  as  the  rest  could.  He  seemed 
very  restless  for  the  last  hour,  husband  did,  and 
kept  lookin'  round  at  the  clock. 

"  I  was  somewhat  disappointed,  after  expectin' 
so  much.  If  I  had  a-known  all  about  the  com 
posers  of  these  pieces,  and  why  they  wrote  them, 
and  what  they  were  intended  to  signify,  and  from 
what  works  they  were  taken,  and  all  about  the 
arts  of  construction  and  composition  of  music,  I 
would  have  enjoyed  it.  It  made  me  feel  my 
ignorance,  especially  when  I  noticed  how  much 
the  little  miss  appreciated  it,  and  how  she  clapped 
her  pretty  hands  with  delight. 

"  During  the  intermission  the  large  man  who 
sat  by  husband  asked  him  how  he  enjoyed  the 
concert.  I  gave  him  a  nudge  with  my  elbow,  so 
he  answered  evasively  at  first. 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  2 1/ 

" '  There  is  no  American  music  on  the  pro 
gramme/  said  he. 

"  'Of  course  not.' 

"  '  But  here  are  selections  of  music  of  most 
other  nations.  Have  we  no  American  com 
posers  ? '  said  husband. 

"  '  I  never  heard  of  any  that  amounted  to  any 
thing/  said  the  large  man,  good-humoredly.  He 
added  :  — 

"  '  There  is  a  strong  prejudice  against  American 
music.  The  Clio  seldom  makes  use  of  American 
words  or  music.  It  is  very  careful  of  its  reputation  ; 
it  is  a  very  choice  club.  I  like  American  art  my 
self.' 

" '  But  we  have  an  American  literature  that  the 
world  reads  ;  we  have  young  American  art  clubs  ; 
is  there  no  school  for  the  development  of  Ameri 
can  music ;  for  the  setting  of  the  poetry  of 
American  life,  history  and  scenery  to  song  ? ' 
said  husband. 

"  '  Other  nations  have  such  clubs  and  schools, 
and  are  proud  of  their  own  songs,  music  and 
words.  Every  stream  and  river,  and  mountain 
and  valley,  has  its  song,  and  the  best  singers  are 
not  ashamed  to  sing  them.  We  sing  them.  Would 
it  not  be  well  to  have  some  of  our  own  ? ' 


218  UP  FROM   THE    CAPE. 

"  '  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  before.  It  does 
seem  reasonable,  as  I  think  of  it.  It  is  held  to  be 
one  of  the  fine  arts,  here,  to  be  as  obscure  as 
possible ;  we  seek  to  use  unknown  places  from 
unknown  names,  as  far  as  we  can.  See  what  a 
programme  that  is,  for  example.  We  prefer  Ital 
ian  words  to  German,  and  German  to  English, 
though  old  English  words  will  do,'  said  he. 

"  He  laughed  as  though  he  half  agreed  with 
husband  after  all. 

"  '  But  does  the  Club  never  present  original 
compositions  ? ' 

"  '  Yes.  Herbert  once  wrote  a  boat  song  on 
the  Volga;  it  was  received  with  tremendous 
enthusiasm.' 

"  '  Was  it  published  ? '  asked  husband. 

"  'Yes.' 

"  '  Did  it  sell  ? ' 

"  '  He  sold  enough  copies  to  his  own  pupils  to 
pay  for  the  plates.  They  all  do  that.' 

"  He  laughed  again,  as  though  it  looked  to 
him  rather  ridiculous. 

"  'Would  not  a  song  on  the  Charles,  or  Hud 
son,  or  Ohio,  have  been  as  acceptable?  It  would 
at  least  have  been  American.' 

"  '  Perhaps  so  ;  but  the  days  of  "  Hail  Columbia," 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  2 19 

and  the  "Blue  Juniata,"  are  gone,  and  foreign 
teachers  have  taught  us  that  the  world  is  the 
province  of  music,  and  that  music  is  not  provincial. 
Every  teacher  teaches  the  music  and  songs  of  his 
own  land  ;  the  songs  that  are  most  pleasing  to  him ; 
it  is  only  natural.  The  city  is  full  of  foreign 
music.-teachers,  and  each  is  true  to  the  music  and 
traditions  of  his  own  country.  These  teachers  are 
a  great  help  to  us,  but  each  teaches  his  own  art.' 

"  '  And  so  the  only  people  who  are  untrue  to  the 
music  and  traditions  of  their  own  country  are 
Americans  ? '  said  husband. 

"  '  So  it  would  seem.  I  never  knew  any  one 
except  a  Jenny  Lind,  Parepa-Rosa  or  a  Nilsson 
that  even  dared  to  face  a  Boston  audience  at  a 
concert  like  this  with  an  American  song.  No 
man  ever  does.  America  is  new.  Yankee  Doodle- 
ism  is  dead.  Even  the  old  Handel  and  Haydn 
Society  has  gone  by.  Why,  some  of  these  young 
men  even  laugh  at  Handel  himself.' 

"  'Are  you  acquainted  with  the  members  of  the 
Club  ? '  says  husband. 

"  '  Yes.' 

"  'Who  is  the  first  one  to  the  right?' 

"'Hobbs.' 

"'What  is  he?' 


220  UP  FROM  THE  CAPE. 

'"A  clerk.' 

"  '  Where  was  he  educated  ? ' 

"  '  He  came  up  from  the  Cape.' 

"  '  Who  is  the  next  one?' 

"'Now,  this  is  too  bad  :  if  you  go  to  analyzing 
the  Club  in  that  way  you  will  ruin  its  reputation. 
The  Club  takes  its  tone  and  character  wholly  from 

J • 

its  teachers  ;  just  like  organ-pipes  that  respond  to 
another's  touch.' 

"'I  see.' 

"  'They  just  sing.' 

"'Wouldn't  a  school  for  the  purpose  of  the 
development  of  American  music  be  a  good  thing 
for  Boston  ?' 

"  'I  think  it  would.' 

"  '  Democratic  —  utilitarian  —  founded  on  the 
principles  of  Jeremy  Bentham  and  John  Stuart 
Mill,  that  that  is  the  best  which  benefits  the 
greatest  number  ;  a  school  in  which  musical  artists 
should  retain  their  own  names  and  not  be  ashamed 
of  them.  Artists  in  other  nations  do  this.  A 
school  that  should  sing  American  words  under 
American  titles ;  a  school  that  should  estimate 
music  as  an  influence  as  well  as  an  art.' 

"  '  I  am  somewhat  a  utilitarian.  I  believe,  with 
Mill,  that  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest 


UT  FROM  THE  CAPE.  221 

number  should  be  the  aim  and  end  of  all  institu 
tions.  You  see  how  that  would  apply  to  music. 
That  would  be  the  best  music  that  would  be  most 
helpful  and  do  the  most  good.  I  think  we  need  a 
school  like  that.  Germany  has  such  schools.' 

"  Now  what  do  you  think  ?  as  soon  as  husband 
said  'John  Stuart  Mill,'  that  little  minx  of  a  miss 
looked  up  to  me  and  said  :  — 

"  '  What  a  lovely  man  your  husband  is, — I  think 
he  is  just  lovely.  Mill  was  such  a  friend  to  women.' 

"  I  told  husband  that  as  we  were  goin'  home. 
We  both  said  that  that  would  make  the  recollec 
tion  of  the  evcnin'  very  pleasant,  and  when  we 
got  home,  and  Jefferson  asked  Uncle  how  he  liked 
the  concert,  he  just  answered  :  — 

"  '  It  was  lovely.     We  had  good  seats.' 

"  After  all  that  he  had  said,  too  ! " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ELECTION    DAY. 

It  was  Election  Day.  November.  The  air  was 
frosty,  with  a  steely  brightness.  One  of  those 
days  that  bring  a  rift  of  warmth  into  the  cooling 
season ;  a  calm  in  the  month  of  storms  ;  a  day  that 
ripens  the  leaves  with  which  the  fitful  gusts  of  the 
night  winds  have  strewn  the  streets. 

Uncle  Eben  was  up  betimes  in  the  morning,  as 
was  his  custom  on  Election  Day.  On  the  Cape 
the  elections  were  held  in  the  vestry  of  the  church, 
and  he  was  always  there  early,  just  as  he  was 
always  punctual  at  the  Sabbath  service  and  at  the 
class  and  conference  meeting.  He  had  been 
taught  by  his  father  and  grandfather  to  regard 
voting  as  a  religious  duty.  He  had  always  lookea 
upon  a  large  part  of  the  Pentateuch  as  a  political 
book. 

He  read  the  Advertiser  and  the  Post.  They 
were  left  at  the  door  early.  Then  he  went  out  and 
bought  the  Herald ;  then  he  hailed  a  boy  and 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  223 

bought  the  Globe.  If  he  was  not  a  voter  in  the 
precinct,  he  wished  fully  to  understand  what  were 
the  duties  of  the  day. 

At  breakfast  he  remarked  that  it  was  "a  bright 
day  for  the  election."  Eugene  came  in  and  he 
asked  him  if  the  "prospects  were  bright." 

"For  the  base-ball  match?  I  think  so.  We 
shall  have  them  to-day." 

"  For  the  election  ?  " 

"  Election  Day,  is  it  ?     What  for  ?  " 

Uncle  looked  unhappy.  Said  something  about 
De  Tocqucville  and  Mill ;  something  about  the 
principles  of  the  "founders  of  the  Republic." 

Eugene  was  not  greatly  interested. 

"  I  suppose  everybody  goes  to  town-meeting 
down  on  the  Cape,"  said  he,  "  Americans  just  the 
same  as  the  foreigners  ?  Young  men  just  like 
old  men  —  even  those  who  do  not  expect  an  office. 
They  have  time  for  such  things." 

Eugene  bustled  about,  making  preparations  for 
the  base-ball  match. 

"  You  vote  before  you  go  out  of  town  ?  "  said 
Uncle. 

"  Vote  ?  I  never  have  voted.  Young  gentle 
men  do  not  vote.  They  do  not  want  vulgar  offices 
if  they  could  have  them." 


224  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

He  bustled  about  as  before. 

Uncle  looked  puzzled  at  Eugene's  views  of 
politics,  but  a  philosophical  calm  came  into  his 
face  after  a  brief  disturbance. 

"  In  this  country,"  said  he,  "  we  have  nothing 
but  the  virtue  of  the  people  to  sustain  our  institu 
tions  and  to  continue  them  to  others.  The  virtue 
of  the  people  can  only  be  maintained  by  intelli 
gence  at  the  polls.  As  long  as  Rome  sustained 
her  virtue  she  stood  against  the  world  ;  when  she 
surrendered  her  virtue  she  lost  her  rights,  and  the 
barbarians  of  the  North  swept  down  and  crushed 
her.  When  the  Republic  of  Venice  " — 

But  Uncle's  audience  had  gone  —  Eugene;  I  was 
not  a  voter. 

Uncle  went  to  the  polls  early  to  see  the  descend 
ants  of  the  Franklins,  Adamses,  Otises,  Sumners 
and  Phililpses  maintain  the  trusts  of  their  illus 
trious  and  democratic  ancestors. 

The  ward-room  was  in  a  public  school  building. 
This  seemed  fitting  to  Uncle  ;  as  appropriate  as 
the  church  vestry.  On  the  Cape,  the  church,  the 
school  and  the  ballot  were  alike  sacred  in  his 
view ;  each  belonged  to  the  other. 

The  street  was  sentinelled  with  a  row  of  patriots 
of  various  nationalities  and  colors  ;  in  the  latter 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  22$ 

respect,  red  was  the  predominating  hue.  These 
offered  ballots  to  the  voters  as  they  passed. 

Uncle  was  not  impressed  by  any  very  evident 
intelligence  of  these  super-serviceable  servants  of 
the  public. 

"Never  mind,"  said  he,  quietly.  "This  is  a  free 
country."  Then,  quoting  John  A.  Andrew,  he 
added,  "  '  I  know  not  what  record  of  sin  awaits  me 
in  another  world,  but  this  I  do  know :  I  never  yet 
despised  a  man  because  he  was  poor,  because  he 
was  ignorant,  or  because  he  was  black.'  ' 

He  stopped  and  read  the  "voting-list"  pasted 
on  a  fence.  He  noticed  there  the  names  of  the 
ministers  in  the  ward,  the  teachers,  and  of  several 
merchants  who  had  called  to  inquire  about  father, 
and  whom  Uncle  had  met ;  also,  of  the  Browning 
Club,  composed  mostly  of  the  sons  of  those  mer 
chants  living  on  the  avenue. 

On  the  Cape  the  ministers  voted  early ;  the 
teachers  at  noon,  and  the  members  of  the  Farmers 
Club  in  the  afternoon,  the  vote  of  the  latter 
being  generally  unanimous  and  decisive. 

Uncle  went   into  the  ward-room.      The    school 

furniture  had  been  removed ;  there  were  sums  and 

geometrical  figures  on   the    blackboards,  and  the 

floor    was   covered  with  saw-dust.     Just  why  the 

8 


226  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

halls  of  the  patriots  should  have  been  covered  with 
saw-dust,  like  a  stable,  Uncle  was  puzzled  to 
divine. 

A  policeman,  one  of  those  guardians  of  the 
peace  who  bring  to  their  duties  a  very  recent 
knowledge  of  the  institutions  of  foreign  lands, 
offered  Uncle  one  of  the  two  only  chairs  "outside 
of  the  rail,"  and  he  gladly  accepted  it,  and  sat 
down  in  the  temple  of  learning,  to  see  an 
exhibition  of  patriotic  interest  that  should  pro 
phesy  of  municipal  greatness  and  glory  for  the 
centuries  to  come. 

The  ministers  did  not  arrive. 

The  saloon-keepers  of  one  of  the  back  streets 
came  early.  They  voted.  They  labored  with 
their  friends.  They  were  generous  ;  their  language, 
if  not  choice,  was  persuasive  and  forcible. 

The  teachers  did  not  appear. 

The  janitor  of  one  of  the  schools  came,  and 
inquired  for  a  ticket  that  contained  the  name 
Dennis  Flarity,  and  having  complimented  Dennis, 
he  retired  to  Dennis'  emporium  in  the  single 
back-alley  of  the  ward  of  wealth  and  culture.  One 
such  back-alley,  at  least,  is  to  be  found  in  even  the 
South  End  and  Highland  wards. 

Neither  did  the  members  of  the  Browning 
Club  appear ;  not  even  to  give  the  decisive  vote. 


UP   FROM    THE    CAPE.  22/ 

The  idlers  on  the  Square,  whom  Uncle  had 
seen  sunning  themselves  in  the  warm  October 
days,  came.  They  lingered  long,  and  before  night 
Uncle  was  able  to  see  the  utility  of  the  saw-dust ; 
the  problem  could  not  have  been  made  more 
clear. 

The  day  passed. 

A  middle-aged  man  of  the  prevailing  color, 
who  had  been  in  the  ward-room  all  day,  seemingly 
a  self-appointed  inspector,  came  to  Uncle  with 
a  smiling  face. 

"Are  you  a  Republican  or  Democrat  ?  " 

"I  would  give,"  said  Uncle,  "to  man  his  birth 
right  " 

"  That's  the  talk,"  said  the  super-serviceable 
patriot. 

"And  to  labor  in  a  field  for  manly  independ 
ence  " 

"  You  're  the  boy,"  encouragingly. 

"  And  to  him  that  works  his  dues.      But  " 

"  Ye's  a  gentleman.  And  now  I  will  tell  you  in 
confidence  that  Hibberdy  and  Hobberdy  and 
Smart  are  elected,  sure.  There  haven't  many 
Americans  voted  to-day.  They  are  all  down  town, 
attendin'  to  their  business.  It  has  been  a  good 
day  for  us,  sure." 


228  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE, 

"  Who  are  Hibberdy  and  Hobberdy  and  Smart  ?" 

"Merchants,  sure." 

"  What  do  they  deal  in  ?  " 

"  Importers  ;  don't  you  know  Hibberdy  and 
Hobberdy  ?  " 

"  What  do  they  import  ?  " 

"Ah,  my  boy,  they  import ;  and,  sure,  they  im 
port  what  gives  the  boys  the  inspiration  to  labor, 
and  helps  build  the  railroads,  and  makes  ye  men 
what  speculates  rich  as  the  princes  of  the  ould 
country  and  the  good  ould  times.  That  is  a  true 
word  ye  said  about  labor  and  freedom,  and  now  I 
will  go  down  to  Hibberdy  and  Hobberdy's  and 
congratulate.  And  won't  ye  go  too  ?  " 

Uncle  came  back  philosophically.  The  wind 
scattered  the  leaves  over  the  street.  There  was 
November  weather  in  his  spirit.  He  said  at  the 
supper  table  : 

"  111  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a  prey, 
Where  wealth  accumulates  and  men  decay." 

"Has  any  one  here  voted  to-day?"  he  asked 
of  me. 

"  Only  Nolan." 
"  Nolan  ?  " 
"  The  coachman." 
"And  Neversink." 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  229 

"  Neversink  ?  " 

"  The  German  girl's  beau.  We  give  him  odd 
jobs." 

It  had  been  a  good  day  for  Hibberdy  and 
Hobberdy  and  Smart. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    LECTURESHIP.  SNOW. 

"  Brother  Henry  continued  to  improve,  but  he  was 
still  very  restless,  and  was  not  willin'  that  we 
should  return  to  the  Cape. 

"  We  went  to  the  Lectureship  —  husband 
and  I. 

"  I  expected  to  see  the  sun,  but  I  didn't  get  a 
ray  of  light  —  it  was  just  like  a  voyage  to  the 
clouds.  I  had  thought  to  receive  great  comfort 
from  the  Lectureship  when  I  should  come  up 
from  the  Cape. 

"  What  a  scene  it  was !  We  went  early,  at 
eleven  o'clock,  so  as  to  get  a  seat.  The  doors  of 
the  Temple  were  full ;  people  were  runnin'  to  and 
fro  like  boys  after  a  cry  of  fire.  We  rushed  on 
with  the  tide  up  one  of  the  twenty  stairways. 

"  It  was  not  a  sunny  room.  It  was  sort  of 
shadowy  and  mysterious.  There  were  gas-lights 
flashin'  on  a  gray  and  gold  ceiling ;  an  organ 
lookin'  cramped  for  room ;  dust ;  and  people  hur- 
ryin'. 


UP   FROM   THE  CAPE.  231 

"  Everybody  seemed  movin'  about ;  Sunday 
school  teachers,  day  school  teachers,  young 
women  in  gray,  widders  in  black,  ministers  in 
white  neck-ties,  editors,  professors,  literary  folks, 
business  men,  clerks. 

"The  Temple  soon  filled,  the  aisles  and  the 
doors. 

"  They  were  honest-lookin'  folks,  and  very 
intelligent,  but  somehow  they  didn't  seem  satis 
fied  and  contented  and  happy.  There  was  a  rest 
lessness  everywhere.  It  was  not  like  an  old 
Quaker  meetin'  at  all,  where  people  with  blessed 
faces  just  said  nothin',  but  looked  serene;  nor  like 
an  old-time  Methodist  meetin',  where  they  used 
to  come  together  to  talk  about  assurance,  and 
shout  'Glory!'  Everybody  seemed  a  little  uncer 
tain  and  dissatisfied,  as  though  there  was  some- 
thin'  in  life  that  they  wanted  and  had  not  been 
able  to  find. 

"  The  platform  was  full  of  learned  men.  One 
of  them  made  a  sort  of  scientific  prayer  to  the 
people,  and  then  the  lecturer  began  to  explain  the 
mysteries  of  theology  and  science. 

"  I  never  listened  so  to  any  man.  I  thought 
every  minute  that  he  was  goin'  to  say  somethin' 
that  I  could  understand.  He  talked  amazingly  ; 


232  UP   FROM   THE    CAPE. 

it  made  me  greatly  excited.  I  knew  it  was  all 
about  somethin'  or  other,  but  the  sentences  all 
went  over  my  head. 

"As  near  as  I  could  get  the  sense  of  it,  he  said 
that  everything  was  all  correct ;  the  world  was 
constructed  properly,  as  Moses  had  said.  Things 
were  all  in  harmony  above  the  clouds.  This  was 
very  comfortin';  I  had  thought  it  was  so. 

"Then  he  proceeded  to  explain  eschatology, 
and  how  it  would  all  be  in  the  future  ages.  That 
was  just  what  everyone  wanted  to  know,  and  I 
would  rather  have  given  five  dollars  than  not  to 
have  understood  what  he  said.  Husband  seemed 
to  drink  it  all  in  and  to  be  powerfully  interested. 

"There  was  an  old  lady  that  sat  by  my  side. 
She  was  dressed  in  black  satin,  and  had  an  ear- 
trumpet,  and  she  listened  as  though  the  fate  of 
the  whole  human  family  hung  upon  the  speaker's 
lips. 

"When  the  lecture  was  over  she  said  to  me  :  — 

"  '  Mysterious  ! ' 

"  '  Yes,'  said  I,  'very  mysterious.' 

"'Who  was  that  man  he  said  had  got  the 
eschatology  ? ' 

"  '  Dorner,'  said  I. 

"'Deep?'  said  she. 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  233 

'•'  Deep/  said  I. 

" '  Why,  a  person  that  can't  see  that  that  is 
deep  must  be  lackin','  said  she.  'I  can  see  that 
that  is  deep.' 

"  '  So  can  I,'  said  I. 

"  We  agreed. 

"  I  watched  the  crowd  as  it  melted  away.  The 
people  didn't  look  satisfied ;  they  didn't  seem  sure. 
I  have  seen  more  settled-lookin'  people  go  away 
from  a  meetin'  at  Yarmouth,  or  the  Vineyard,  on 
the  old  camp-grounds. 

'We  went  out  on  to  the  Common,  and  passed 
through  to  the  Garden,  and  the  avenue  around 
the  hill  with  the  monument.  The  air  was  cool 
and  bright,  and  the  leaves  were  fallin'  and  driftin' 
about  on  the  walks  under  the  trees. 

"I  asked  husband  how  he  enjoyed  the  discourse. 

"  '  These  Boston  people  have  a  great  privilege 
in  spending  their  dinner-hour  in  hearing  theologi 
cal  questions  discussed  in  that  way,  by  one  who 
has  made  them  a  life-long  study  —  a  great  privi 
lege,'  said  he.  'But  the  real  evidence  of  these 
things  docs  not  come  from  without,  but  from 
within.  It  is  a  matter  of  experience.  The 
Gospel  promise  is  that  all  who  yield  to  the  Divine 
Will  shall  "know  of  the  doctrine."  I  would  give 


234  UP   FROM    THE  CAPE. 

more  to  hear  a  plantation  negro  tell  his  experi 
ence  than  to  hear  a  theologian  try  to  explain  it. 
I  would  rather  see  the  light  than  hear  a  lect 
urer  try  to  analyze  it.  But  the  Lectureship  is  a 
grand  thing  ;  it  is  intelligence  about  truth.' 

"  We  sat  down  on  a  seat  near  the  pond.  It  was 
sunny  and  sheltered.  Boys  were  sailin'  their 
boats  on  the  pond. 

"  '  This  is  not  the  first  Lectureship  that  has 
been  given  in  Boston,'  said  husband.  'A  hun 
dred  years  ago  a  Lectureship  was  held  on  this 
Common  under  the  trees.  The  great  elm  was 
standing  then.  Ten  thousand  people  used  to 
attend.  The  lecturer's  philosophy  \vas  very  easy 
to  understand  ;  it  also  had  to  do  with  belief  and 
doubt.  It  was,  "  He  that  seeketh,  findeth." 

" '  Men  came  to  scoff,  but  their  faces  turned 
white.  Doubters  came  for  light,  and  it  shined 
within.  Men  rejoiced  in  the  inward  evidence, 
and  their  faces  were  calm  and  bright.  This  world 
vanished ;  the  future  glowed. 

"  'They  called  him  the  New  Light;  the  move 
ment  they  named  the  New  Light  stir. 

"'The  New  Light  died  at  Newburyport.  When 
he  was  dyin'  he  was  taken  to  the  fields  to  preach 
once  more.  He  said :  "  I  go  to  my  everlasting 


UP  FROM  THE   CAPE.  235 

rest.  My  sun  of  life  rose,  shone,  and  is  setting. 
It  is  about  to  rise  to  shine  forever."  He  sleeps 
under  one  of  the  pulpits  at  Newburyport. 

"'The  new  Lectureship  is  good  —  I  do  not 
doubt  its  good  influence,  but  is  it  better  than  the 
old  ? ' 

"The  wind  blew  around  the  hill,  and  we  rose" 
and  went  on.  I  saw  that  he  had  not  received  all 
the  light  that  he  expected.  He  talks  in  a  kind  of 
indirect  way,  husband  does.  He  is  very  careful 
of  what  he  says,  but  when  you  know  him  it  is  not 
hard  to  understand  him. 

"  When  we  were  at  home  he  looked  thoughtful. 
Jefferson  asked  him  about  the  Lectureship  and  its 
results. 

"  'Well,'  says  husband^  'my  experience  reminds 
me  of  what  Emerson  says  :  — 

'"I  am  not  much  of  an  advocate  for  travelling,' 
says  Emerson,  '  and  I  observe  that  men  run  away 
to  other  countries  because  they  are  not  good  in 
their  own,  and  run  back  to  their  own,  because  they 
pass  for  nothing  in  new  places.  For  the  most  part 
only  light  characters  travel.  Who  are  you  that 
have  no  task  to  keep  you  at  home  ? ' 

"  '  I  think  there  is  a  restlessness  in  our  people, 
which  argues  want  of  character.' 


236  UP   FROM   THE   CAPE. 

"'The  stuff  of  all  countries  is  just  the  same. 
What  is  true  anywhere  is  true  everywhere.  Let 
him  go  where  he  will,  the  traveller  can  only  find 
so  much  beauty  or  worth  as  he  carries.' 

"  I  have  heard  him  quote  that  forty  times,  I 
know  it  all  by  heart.  What  does  it  mean  ? 

"I  never  liked  Emerson  very  well.  It  seems  as 
though  when  I  hear  husband  quote  him  that  he 
meant  me. 

"Bright  days  went  on,  Henry  was  not  worse  — 
only  he  could  get  no  natural  sleep. 

"  One  of  the  servant  girls  who  has  been  sick  a 
long  time  had  a  hemorrhage  —  she  had  no  friends 
in  this  country,  and  I  wondered  what  would  be 
come  of  her.  She  cried  all  the  time,  and  it  made 
my  heart  ache  for  her. 

"  One  day  she  came  to  me  with  a  smile,  and 
said  :  — 

"  '  Dr.  Cullis  says  he  will  take  me  —  I  shall  have 
a  home.  He  thinks  he  can  help  me.' 

"  We  rode  out  to  the  Consumptives'  Home  one 
day,  husband  and  I.  The  doctor  took  us  over  the 
grounds.  How  beautiful  they  were  !  How  pure 
the  air  was  there  ! 

"  '  Whatever  that  man  may  believe,  he  is  doing 
good,'  husband  says  he,  '  I  know  of  nothing  more 


UP   FROM  THE   CAPE.  237 

unselfish  than  to  befriend  a  sick  man  or  woman 
who  has  not  a  friend.' 

"  Husband  gave  the  Home  one  hundred  dollars. 
- 1  would,  only  for  my  losses  in  Treasure  Moun 
tain. 

"  We  went  to  a  Catholic  orphan  asylum. 

"'It  is  doing  good,  doing  good,'  husband  says 
he.  He  took  out  his  pocket-book  as  he  was 
comin'  away. 

"  '  You're  not  goin'  to  give  anything  to  help  the 
Catholics,  are  you  ? '  says  I." 

"  'There  are  no  Catholics  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,'  says  he  ;  '  a  true  heart  knows  nothing  of 
sects,  but  only  of  needs.  You  have  not  under 
stood  the  parable  of  the  Samaritan.' 

"  Husband  is  becomin'  broad,  husband  is.  I 
hope  he  won't  relapse.  Still,  I  wasn't  sorry  to 
have  him  give  somethin'  for  the  children,  because 
children  is  children,  I.  would  have  given  somethin' 
myself  :  only,  you  know,  I'd  been  speculatin'. 

"  We  came  home  from  a  ride  to  Mount  Ida  one 
day,  and  found  brother  worse. 

"  It  was  nearly  December.  There  was  snow  in 
the  air." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

DECEMBER. 

It  is  ended.  How  still  is  the  house  and  how 
heavy  is  my  heart  ! 

The  lights  twinkle  across  the  dark  gulf  of  the 
Public  Garden,  and  I  look  out  on  to  the  darkness, 
and  wonder  at  the  change,  and  at  what  it  will 
bring,  and  where  its  results  will  end. 

The  street  band  is  playing  'Departed  Days.' 
Light  steps  pass  —  and  happy  voices  melt  away  on 
the  air. 

The  doctor  said  that  he  did  not  expect  it  so  soon. 
He  knew  that  his  nervous  system  was  exhausted, 
but  he  thought  the  streams  of  life  would  flow  back 
again  from  nature's  mysterious  sources.  He  was 
called  too  late. 

How  dark,  how  dreadful  were  those  last  days| 
His  brain  had  not  slept  for  weeks  —  it  had  had  no 
rest  but  the  stupor  of  the  drug.  Life  passed  into 
a  deep  horror ;  then  memory  into  oblivion.  He 
did  not  know  us  ;  he  did  not  suffer  at  the  end. 

One  day  the   cloud  partly  lifted.      He  thought 


UP  FROM   THE  CAPE.  239 

he  was  in  the  old  orchard  on  the  Cape  again.  He 
was  a  boy  ;  it  was  spring  ;  the  trees  were  in  bloom 
and  the  robins  were  singing.  He  was  a  boy,  and 
happy,  and  years  lay  fair  before  him.  There  came 
a  vision  of  life,  with  its  ambitions  and  struggles, 
and  he  said  :  — 

"Hurry,  hurry  —  how  they  hurry;  how  the 
years  hurry !  " 

I  put  my  hand  on  his  forehead.  Tears  came  to 
his  eyes,  and  a  helpless  look  into  his  face.  Then 
his  face  lighted. 

"  Is  that  your  hand,  mother  ?  " 

"  No  ;  Jefferson's." 

"God  bless  you,  my  son.  I  thought  it  was 
mother's.  Do  not  leave  me.  It  is  going — my 
mind  is  going  — this  is  Night." 

He  never  spoke  again.  He  lived  on,  but  the 
world  seemed  all  lost  to  him.  Three  weeks  ago  it 
ended  ;  at  midnight. 

"Insolvent."  When  the  lawyer  said  that,  I 
knew  the  whole  truth  ;  how  the  ruinous  state  of 
his  business  had  produced  the  long,  silent  anxiety  ; 
the  solitary  anxiety,  sleeplessness ;  insomnia, 
nervous  exhaustion,  and  the  exhaustion  the  col 
lapse.  His  disease  had  begun  in  the  over-use  of 
his  nervous  resources  to  gain  wealth  and  to  sustain 


240  UP  FROM   THE   CAPE. 

the  demands  of  an  exacting  social  position.  He 
had  consumed  himself. 

For  us  :  for  me.     Poor  father  ! 

What  are  we  to  do?  My  step-mother  is  going 
back  to  her  old  home.  Eugene  is  fitted  for  noth 
ing  useful.  He  is  as  proud  as  he  is  penniless. 
He  says  he  shall  join  an  orchestra,  and  travel.  It 
looks  to  me  like  moral  death.  Archie  has  entered 
a  dry-goods  house  as  a  clerk.  Fashionable  life  and 
its  habits  have  unfitted  him  for  any  independent 
occupation.  Carrie  and  I  are  going  to  Uncle 
Eben's  for  the  present.  It  is  my  purpose  to  go 
West. 

To-morrow  the  house  will  be  closed.  The 
beautiful  furniture  will  be  taken  away  by  the 
auctioneer ;  the  pictures,  the  ornaments,  the 
silver,  all.  We  have  given  up  everything  to  meet 
the  demands  of  the  law ;  we  go  out  as  helpless  as 
the  emigrants  who  land  on  our  shores. 

Friendship  ?  How  strangely  we  are  already 
forgotten  by  those  who  used  to  share  our  hospi 
talities.  The  polite  associations  of  society  hardly 
deserve  that  name.  Friends  ?  —  we  seemed  to 
have  more  than  we  could  welcome  —  they  are 
now  reduced  to  two  —  Uncle  and  Aunt,  on  the 
Cape.  They  are  true ;  they  only. 


CHAPTER     XXVIII. 

AUNT    DESIRE    HEARS    FROM    THE    WEST. 

"  Eben  ! 

"Wonder  of  wonders:  the  apple  trees  are  all 
bloomin'  in  January !  Who  would  ever  have 
thought  that  I  would  have  lived  to  see  a  day  like 
this  ? 

"  Eben  ? 

"  '  What  noiv  ? '  Come  here  and  tell  me  what 
this  means. 

"  Let  me  read  you  this  letter  —  from  Henry:  — 

" '  /  have  been  elected  to  Congress? 

"  To  Congress  !  Just  think  o'  that  !  I  feel  just 
as  though  the  Lord  had  appeared  to  me  in  the 
burnin'  bush.  I  always  told  ye,  Eben,  that  the 
sons  of  these  old  Cape  families  turned  out  well  — 
now,  didn't  I  ?  Good  stock,  well  brought  up ; 
have  some  principles  and  character  to  put  into 
life.  There's  nothin'  better  to  make  a  man  of 
than  an  old-fashioned  New  England  character, 


242  UP  FROM  THE   CAPE. 

with  a  little  Calvinism   thrown  in,  though   I  am  a 
Methodist  who  say  it. 

" '  My  majority  was  over  three  thousand,  which  is  one 
thousand  more  than  usual  party  strength,  and  expresses 
the  public  confidence  in  my  character,  and  this  expression 
gives  me  more  satisfaction  than  the  mere  fact  of  my  election? 

"That  is  good.  I  always  tried  to  bring  Henry 
up  to  respect  himself.  I  always  told  him  that 
whoever's  respect  he  might  lose,  never  to  lose  the 
respect  of  Henry  Endicott.  Won't  I  be  proud  to 
put  his  name  on  my  family  tree  ! 

"  '  Brother  John  has  been  made  president  of  the  Wes 
tern  Home  Mission  Society  and  is  engaged  in  establishing 
new  schools  and  churches  in  Dakota,  and  in  the  region  of 
the  Red  River  Valley  of  the  North.  He  has  already  com 
menced  some  twenty  schools  and  organized  tivelve  churches? 

"There,  that  reads  just  like  a  story.  I  always 
desired  that  one  of  my  sons  might  become  a  law 
yer  and  one  a  minister,  and  here  I  am  blessed  with 
more  than  I  ever  asked  for.  I  have  always  heard 
that  the  good  wishes  of  the  mother  turn  into  reali 
ties  in  the  children. 

"  '  /  owe  my  apparent  success  much  to  your  influence, 
and  as  greatly  to  father's  sound  opinions  and  excellent 
example? 


UP   FROM    THE   CAPE.  243 

"  '  Sound  opinions,'  '  excellent  example.'  So 
you  are  somebody,  Eben,  after  all !  I'm  glad. 
I  wish  I'd  found  it  out  before;  it  would  have 
saved  me  from  some  hard  feelin's,  and  so  much 
talk,  you  know.  But  we  can't  always  see  the  end 
from  the  beginning.' 

"'I'm  satisfied  now,  Eben;  everything  is  all 
right  in  the  world,  as  the  Lectureship  said.  If  you 
are  all  right,  the  world  is  all  right.  And  Eben, 
I'm  never  goin'  to  find  fault  with  you  any  more. 
I  don't  feel  as  though  I  had  always  done  quite 
right  by  you  in  the  past.  But  life  all  appears  to 
me  differently  now,  just  as  the  world  appears  when 
you  see  it  from  a  hill-top. 

"  There  is  always  somethin'  to  cast  a  shadow 
into  the  sunniest  day  —  Carrie  is  feelin'  bad, 
She  has  had  a  disappointment  —  Rev.  Mr.  Glass. 

"  He  says  as  how  he  has  no  means  of  support, 
and  she  has  none,  and  as  how  he  does  not  receive 
a  'call/  and  she  has  not  been  brought  up  to 
economy,  he  can  only  be  a  sister  to  her  —  I  think 
he  meant  a  brother.  He  says  as  how  the  world  is 
progressin',  but  hasn't  yet  reached  his  standard  of 
thought. 

"  How  brother's  family  have  gone  to  pieces ! 
Their  house  gone,  and  their  furniture  sold  under 


244  UP   FROM  THE   CAPE. 

the  hammer.  Eugene  a  fiddler,  and  Archie  a 
clerk  in  a  dry-goods  store.  Carrie  is  a  good  girl, 
a  girl  of  talent,  but  so  dependent  and  unhappy. 

"  The  fact  is  that  that  family  had  wrong  views 
of  life,  now  didn't  they  ?  Their  father  gave  his 
heart  to  wealth,  and  their  step-mother  to  society, 
and  there's  somethin'  in  life  better  than  that,  now 
ain't  there  ?  Oaks  don't  grow  from  sun-flower 
seeds.  What's  that  ?  '  I've  arrived  at  these  views 
rather  late  in  life  ? '  Yes,  Eben,  but  since  the 
Lord  has  blessed  us  so  greatly,  you'll  forgive  me, 
now  won't  ye  ?  You  know  what  I  am,  you  Vnow. 
Don't  you  never  say  nothin'." 


CHAPTER     XXIX. 

MAY  —  THE    PRESIDENT'S     LEVEE — LIFE     LIES 
FAIR   BEFORE    ME. 

It  is  May.  The  lilacs  have  budded,  and  the 
blue-birds  and  orioles  are  flitting  among  the 
apple-blossoms.  The  sky,  stretching  over  the 
Bay,  is  serene  and  blue. 

I  am  at  Uncle  Eben's. 

A  year  and  a  half  has  passed  away  since  the 
great  changes  in  our  family.  Since  that  dreadful 
December.  I  have  been  at  Uncle's  since  those 
dark  days. 

I  have  changed.  My  views  of  life,  my  hopes 
and  aims  are  not  what  they  were,  and  not  what 
might  be  expected  of  a  young  man  schooled  in 
society.  I  am  about  to  marry  the  daughter  of  a 
worthy  Cape  farmer,  and  am  going  West  :  into  the 
valley  of  the  Dakota  River  to  begin  life  with  my 
wife  in  a  new  town. 

Eugene  and  Archie  ridicule  my  decision  and 
purpose.  Eugene  still  plays  in  the  orchestra ;  he 


246  UP   FROM    THE    CAPE. 

has  a  dissipated  look  that  troubles  me  ;  he  fiddles 
for  fifteen  dollars  a  week  and  calls  it  art.  I  could 
not  do  that  after  living  so  long  under  the  influence 
of  Uncle  Eben  ;  Eugene  avoids  Uncle  ;  he  does 
not  visit  him  or  write  to  him. 

Archie  is  at  Meade  and  Meadow's.  He  gets 
eight  dollars  a  week.  He  lives  in  a  cheap  board 
ing  house  ;  boasts  that  if  he  is  poor  he  is  still  proud. 
He  never  speaks  of  Uncle.  I  know  that  Uncle 
would  be  glad  to  help  him  if  he  were  to  show  the 
right  spirit,  and  I  see  that  he  is  just  such  an 
adviser  as  he  needs.  But  Archie  is  in  sympathy 
with  the  social  views  and  habits  of  Eugene,  and 
puts  himself  wholly  under  his  influence. 

Since  Mr.  Glass  broke  his  engagement  with  her, 
Carrie  has  lived  with  Uncle  and  his  family.  She 
is  now  at  Washington,  with  cousin  Henry.  She 
is  to  be  married  in  June. 

I  have  read  much  since  I  have  lived  at  Uncle's. 
In  politics,  I  have  been  much  influenced  by  the 
principles  of  Jeremy  Bentham,  and  in  social 
opinions,  by  John  Stuart  Mill.  But  while  I  rever 
ence  the  democracy  of  Mill,  I  can  not  respect  his 
religious  views.  I  accept  the  principle  that  the 
happiness  of  the  greatest  number  should  be  the 
aim  and  end  of  all  institutions ;  but  I  find  the 


UP  FROM   THE   CAPE.  247 

same  doctrine  set  forth  in  the  Sermon  on  the 
Mount,  and  in  the  Gospel  Parables,  and  made  clear 
in  Paul's  argument  in  Corinthians;  and  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  habits,  aims,  and 
hopes  of  a  religious  life  are  essential  to  the 
happiness  of  men.  In  short,  I  have  come  to 
believe  what  Uncle  has  often  said  to  me,  "that  no 
one  can  be  perfectly  happy  unless  he  believes  that 
the  door  of  Heaven  stands  open  to  him  at  the  end 
of  life." 

I  saw  three  things  in  human  experience  that 
impressed  me  as  fundamental  :  that  all  virtue  is 
rewarded,  that  all  evil  is  punished,  and  that  the 
spiritual  life  set  forth  in  the  Scriptures  is  the 
hightest  good  of  the  soul  and  the  completion  of 
its  happiness.  These  views  so  influenced  me  that 
I  have  consecrated  my  life,  and  have  entered  into 
the  joys  of  a  religious  experience,  and  united  with 
the  little  Methodist  Church  in  the  village. 

I  know  but  little  of  the  ecclesiastical  machinery 
used  by  John  Wesley  and  his  followers,  whom  I 
merely  believe  to  have  been  good  men.  I  look 
upon  this  church  as  merely  one  of  the  many 
spiritual  orders  of  equal  value,  but  especially 
adapted  to  pioneer  work  in  the  West,  where  its 
fruits  have  been  good. 


248  UP   FROM    THE   CAPE. 

Uncle  knew  that  I  was  thinking  earnestly  on 
these  subjects,  and  he  was  more  than  pleased 
at  my  conclusions.  He  used  to  say,  "  Be  not 
deceived ;  cast  your  anchor,  my  boy,  into  ground 
that  will  hold." 

So  a  Jeffersonian  Democrat  in  politics,  evan 
gelical  in  religion,  and  the  husband  of  a  true- 
hearted,  sensible,  country  wife,  I  expect  to  go 
West.  I  have  aimed  to  "  cast  anchor  into  ground 
that  will  hold."  I  feel  the  certainty  of  usefulness, 
and  success  within  me. 

Aunt  has  not  spoken  an  unpleasant  or  censo 
rious  word  to  uncle  since  she  returned  from  that 
sad  visit  to  the  city.  Uncle  and  aunt  have  had 
but' one  difficulty  since  that  experience;  that  was 
about  the  making  of  their  will. 

They  consulted  "the  boys,"  John  and  Henry, 
about  the  matter.  John  wrote  that  he  did  not 
wish  for  any  part  of  their  property,  as  he  had 
already  enough  of  his  own.  He  said,  "  Give  it  all 
to  Henry." 

Henry  answered,  "  Give  it  all  to  John.  I  am 
well  enough  off.  I  do  not  need  it." 

"  How  much  does  a  young  man  need  to  make  a 
fair  start  in  the  West  ?  "  asked  aunt,  after  the 
last  letter  had  been  received. 


UP   FROM   THE   CAPE.  249 

"  A  thousand  dollars,"  said  uncle. 

"  Let  us  give  Jeff  a  thousand  dollars." 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  what  we  must  do,"  said  uncle. 

"And  don't  let  us  wait  until  we  are  dead,  let 
us  give  it  to  him  now,"  said  aunt.  "We  shall 
never  miss  it." 

"That  is  just  what  we  will  do,"  said  Uncle. 
"That  is  just  my  plan,  I  agree  with  you  exactly." 

"  One  can't  do  much  in  distributin'  property  after 
one  is  dead,"  said  Aunt. 

Uncle  was  of  the  same  opinion. 

"  Now  let  us  will  all  the  rest  to  the  Woman's 
Board-." 

"  To  the  American  Board,  you  mean  ?  " 

"No,  to  the  Woman's  Board;"  and  Aunt  pro 
ceeded  to  deliver  a  missionary  address  as  would 
have  astonished  by  its  array  of  facts  a  professor 
in  history.  Uncle  was  firm. 

The  discussion  went  on  for  several  days,  when 
it  was  decided  to  give  half  of  the  estate  to  the 
Old  Men's  Home  and  the  Old  Women's  Home, 
and  to  divide  the  other  half  equally  between  the 
two  Boards.  After  that  Uncle  and  Aunt  both  re 
turned  to  their  former  social  state  of  serenity  and 
happiness. 

Last  winter  Uncle  and  Aunt  visited  Washington, 


250  UP   FROM    THE   CAPE. 

at  the  invitation  of  Cousin  Henry.  Carrie  and  I 
managed  the  old  place  while  they  were  gone.  I 
think  from  what  he  wrote  me,  that  nothing  ever 
gave  Cousin  Henry  so  much  honest  pride  as  to 
receive  his  father  and  mother  and  entertain  them 
at  the  Capital. 

"Jefferson,"  said  Aunt  Desire,  on  her  return, 
"  what  do  you  think  ?  He  took  me  to  the  Presi 
dent's  reception,  and  all  these  grand  people  treated 
me  like  a  queen.  The  dress  I  wore  cost  two 
hundred  dollars  —  Henry  paid  for  it.  Think  of  it, 
Jeff  —  two  hundred  dollars  —  I  didn't  feel  right  — 
I  felt  as  though  my  stone-colored  silk  would  have 
done  just  as  well,  and  that  the  money  ought  to 
have  been  saved  and  have  been  given  to  the 
Woman's  Board.  Henry  did  not  mean  I  should 
know  how  much  that  dress  did  cost,  but  the  dress 
maker  by  mistake  sent  the  bill  to  me.  When  I 
saw  it  I  was  that  overcome  that  I  held  my  breath, 
but  Henry  said  it  was  right." 

Dear  Aunt  Desire  :  Her  hobby  is  the  Woman's 
Board.  Why  should  it  not  be  ?  It  makes  her 
happy ;  it  makes  her  feel  that  she  has  a  mission, 
and  that  her  life  has  been  an  especial  value  among 
the  factors  of  the  world. 

I  am  sorry  to  leave  the  dear  old  house  on  the 


AT   THE    PRESIDENT'S    RECEPTION. 


UP   FROM   THE  CAPE.  251 

Cape  ;  its  orchard ;  the  meadows  ;  the  graveyard 
where  my  ancestors  lie  ;  Pine  Tree  Hill.  But  I 
go  to  carry  all  the  good  I  have  learned  at  Uncle 
Eben's  into  a  new  town  in  a  new  country,  and  this 
life,  and  a  life  beyond  this  life,  lie  fair  before  me, 
and  I  am  a  happy  man. 

Since  Uncle  and  Aunt  have  settled  their  affairs 
for  life,  Uncle  has  seemed  to  be  in  a  frame  of 
mind  truly  patriarchal. 

He  said  to  me  one  day  — 

"  My  land  journey  is  over.  I  am  waiting  by 
the  shore  for  the  sail  that  shall  take  me  beyond 
the  horizon.  I  have  ate  from  many  a  table,  but  I 
have  hungered  again.  I  have  drank  from  many  a 
fountain,  but  I  thirsted  again.  Better  things  are 
beyond  —  beyond.  I  am  willing  that  the  tent 
should  fall.  I  have  a  home  that  will  last." 

He  goes  to  the  simple  church  under  the  hill ;  to 
the  place  of  graves.  He  is  not  quite  seventy,  but 
he  feels  that  he  has  already  reached  the  border  of 
the  new  country,  and  that  his  work  is  done. 

Life  lies  serene  behind  him.  It  is  bright  above 
him  and  before  him.  Would  that  the  world  were 
richer  in  simple  lives  like  his  !  I  am  assured  that 
I  shall  part  from  the  man  whose  influence  made 
me  when  I  shall  take  his  hand  to  say  farewell. 


252  UP   FROM   THE   CAPE. 

Aunt  sees  the  change. 

"  He  grows  better  and  better  every  clay.     You 
know  what  husband  is,  you  know." 
"Yes,  we  all  know  that." 


Date  Due 


PRINTED   IN    U.S.A. 


CAT.      NO.     24      161 


A     000  547  459     8 


